


OWNED

by Suli



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gang Violence, Gangs, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Physical Abuse, Torture, not sure whether to tag jungkook and taehyung cuz they're only mentioned, plus seventeen + gang!au is my life, some bts members - Freeform, we all need more jeonghoon and that's the main reason i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suli/pseuds/Suli
Summary: In a dog-eat-dog world, the only thing that separates you from everyone else, the only thing that gives you an edge, is mutual trust, respect, and maybe even love (even when the whole world seems to be pulling you apart).





	1. Profiles//Foreword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot write summaries for the life of me please send help  
> i just really love gang aus in general and feel like Seventeen REALLY suit the au, plus i needed more jeonghoon so this is the spawn of those thought processes

_ **Profiles: Sebong** _

**Name:** Choi Seungcheol _(S. Coups)_

**Position:** Leader

He never decided to be the leader, but the others thrust it on him due to his unquestionable loyalty to the cause

 

 

**Name:** Yoon Jeonghan

**Position:** Advisor

An angel 96.2% of the time

 

****

**Name:** Hong Jisoo _(Joshua)_

**Position:** Spy

Has met some people in _extremely_ high places, and never got caught

 

**Name:** Wen Junhui  _(Jun)_

**Position** : Combat leader

The group's lucky charm

 

****

**Name:** Kwon Soonyoung  _(Hoshi_ _)_

**Position:** Captain of all things assassination and espionage

One of the nicest people you'd ever meet... Unless you're his enemy, that is

 

**Name:** Jeon Wonwoo

**Position:** Negotiator

_Occasionally_ resorts to torture, only if push comes to shove

 

****

**Name:** Lee Jihoon  _(Woozi)_

~~**Position:**~~   **OWNED**

 

****

**Name:** Lee Seokmin  _(DK)_

**Position:** Responsible for territories

Also the mood maker of the group

 

****

**Name:** Kim Mingyu

**Position:** Thief

An enigma: He is clumsy as heck, but still the best at his job

 

****

**Name:** Xu Minghao

**Position:** Infiltration/spying/tracking

Knows 100 different ways to kill you with a knife

 

****

**Name:** Boo Seungkwan

**Position:** Eyes of the group

Loud, sassy, and has absolutely no shame

 

****

**Name:** Choi Hansol  _(Vernon)_

**Position:** Communicator

Kind of mysterious, but mostly a big dork

 

****

**Name:** Lee Chan  _(Dino)_

**Position:** Jack of all trades

No matter what he does, he is always babied just a  _little_ bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prologue should come up relatively soon considering i was so excited to write this i already have half of it planned out!  
> i honestly don't have all of this story planned out so i have no idea how well this will go! but then again it was pretty much the same deal with Blood (Is Not) Thicker Than Water, and THAT turned out not too bad so let's hope it's the same with this one!  
> i really hope you all enjoy this fic! (because i get the feeling i'm gonna enjoy writing it!)
> 
>  
> 
> (also these profiles took me WAY too long)


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told'ya the prologue would be out soon :P

The funeral was all sharp, expensive black clothes, and sullen, somber faces. Some had puffy eyes, others looked distant and tired, but the vast majority simply looked nonchalant, unbothered. After all, it wasn’t like death was uncommon in Jeongseo’s line of work. And yet, the man’s death was a blow, albeit a small one. Im Jeongseo had always been Ssang Yong Pa’s most trusted advisors, one even those at the top of the food chain would trust almost without question.

But, if any of them knew the man beneath the surface, they would kill him in the most gruesome ways known to human-kind.

 

Among the crowd of dry-eyed zombies stood the only people who knew Jeonseo for who he really was. They were technically his superiors, but the relationship was far more complicated than that. In all of Ssang Yong Pa, this was the only relationship that was built on mutual trust and respect rather than fear and blackmail. Those 12 boys, while still managing to stay dry-eyed, walked into the funeral parlor with heavy hearts. Jeongseo had been their greatest partner, their mentor, their closest friend in a dog-eat-dog world. He was their friend in very, very high places, whose reach extended to every corner of Ssang Yong Pa. With him gone, Sebong was left severely crippled.

The group spent upwards of half an hour in near-utter silence, exchanging only brief formalities with whoever approached them. They had heard of Jeongseo’s death less than two hours ago, and barely had the time to think of the ramifications affecting their activities. But now, the questions were growing, and all 12 members wanted to break the silence and address the elephant in the room; a feat that was harder to do than anticipated.

 

After 10 more minutes of awkward, heavy silence, Seungcheol sighed heavily and audibly, almost exaggeratedly. If anyone would help the group get down to business, it would be their leader.

“So…” He started, “What are we gonna do now?”

“Really?” Scoffed Jeonghan, Seungcheol’s advisor, “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan a (weak) stern eye. It didn’t do much, nor was it meant to. After all, the only people who could give the leader crap were his members (mostly because there was no way he could take all 11 of them at once.)

“Jeonghan, don’t act like you weren’t thinking about this too.”

“No, you’re right.” Said Seungkwan, “It’s not like work is just gonna stop for this.”

“No change in the past two hours?” inquired Seungcheol.

“Almost nothing’s changed. Some activities have slowed, but only barely. Things are running as though it were just another day.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Thought Jisoo out loud. “The only people here right now are the important members of Ssang Yong Pa. The people who get their hands dirty are as busy as any other normal day.”

“Are there any candidates for a possible replacement?” Asked Seungcheol, finally directly addressing the elephant in the room.

Jisoo sighed, running a hand over his face. “We have no other allies with whom we have as a strong a relationship as we did with Jeongseo.”

“Jeongseo can’t be replaced,” started Chan, slight irritation evident in his voice, “Why are we talking like he _can_ be?”

 

At that, everyone fell silent again, ashamed. The youngest was right, and what was scary about that is that it meant one of two things: either they risk hiring someone who would get them killed, or they find a way to do everything solo. Neither option was favorable.

 

“The boy’s right,” came a voice behind Seungcheol, “But perhaps I can be of some help.”

Seungcheol spun on his heel instantly, eyes widened. None of the people in the room should have known _anything_ about Sebong other than that they were obedient and worked diligently under Jeongseo’s supervision. And yet, here was this man who addressed them as though they were old allies. He was middle-aged yet looked slightly younger. It was his eyes, they had the gleam one could only associate with youth. Behind him was a boy, the lower half of his face covered by a mask, his eyes carefully trained on the floor.

 

Though his heart pounded wildly, Seungcheol could not afford a slip in composure, at least not _another_ one. So, he straightened up, and bowed respectfully, his members following suit.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, cautiously and humbly.

The man bowed back, followed by the boy behind him. “Good morning, Sebong,” he responded, smiling a sly, knowing smile.

Seungcheol smiled politely, cocking his head to the side, though he wanted nothing more in that moment than to knock that smirk off the man’s face.

“Sir?” he asked politely, hoping he came off as confused and ignorant.

The man simply chuckled in response. “Perhaps we can discuss this somewhere a little more… private? Shall we make our way to the courtyard?”

Curiosity piqued, Seungcheol nodded curtly, and Sebong followed him to the courtyard. Once there, Jisoo was the one to break the silence, of which there were far too many that day.

 

“Pardon my ignorance, sir, but may we know your name?”

The man, once again, chuckled good-naturedly. “Of course, Jisoo-ssi,” he responded, earning him a worried look from everyone. Minghao gripped the combat knife hidden in his sleeve. “I am Seung Changseok, cousin of Im Jeongseo.”

No one quite knew how to respond to that, evident by the way their mouths opened and closed, like fish in a tank.

“I’m sorry for your loss Changseok-ssi,” Jeonghan managed to stammer out, “He was a great man.”

“Yes, his loss was a blow,” started Hansol, “But how do you know about us?” At that, everyone looked at him sternly. Hansol simply shrugged in response,” What? It’s clear he already knows.”

“I’m set to take Jeongseo’s place as your ally, that is how I know of your true motives,” replied Changseok, “Don’t worry, no one else knows, Jeongseo made sure of that. Ssang Yong Pa remains oblivious to your activities.”

“Excuse our distrust,” began Seungcheol, “You must understand, considering the circumstances, but how can we verify that what you’re telling us is true?”

“I understand perfectly, it is a hard situation you find yourselves in. Luckily, I came prepared. Boy?” Changseok addressed the boy behind him in a commanding voice, making him rapidly hand him a large file, eyes remaining downcast. “Here is all the documentation proving I worked closely with Jeongseo on some of his assignments. The first document is a contract, if you may, stating that should anything befall him, I would be the one to take his place.”

 

Jeonghan scanned the document with skeptical eyes. “Strange,” he muttered, “He would have shared this with us.”

“That’s why there’s a missing signature: yours. He intended to send it to you to sign and discuss; but as fate would have it, the opportunity never came.”

“This is gonna take forever to go through and cross-check,” murmured Seungkwan.

“I’m not expecting any formal agreement today, don’t misunderstand me. I acknowledge the process will likely be lengthy.”

“In that case,” said Seungcheol, “May I request a formal meeting to officially discuss all this? In, let’s say, a week from today?”

“My time is yours Seungcheol-ssi.”

“Is that enough time for you to check over those documents?” The question was directed at Seungkwan, Hansol, Jisoo, and Chan: the experts of the group when it came to such matters.

“With the four of us working on it, we should be fine,” replied Seungkwan.

“Alright then. I suppose we’ll meet again in a week Changseok-ssi.”

“Yes. Until then, may I tie up some loose ends concerning Jeongseo’s recent deal with our allies in China?”

 

At that, Jun’s ears perked up. “The arms deal?” He inquired. “I thought Jeongseo settled that a while ago.”

“It is technically wrapped up, however, Jeongseo passed before it could be properly finalized. I am requesting permission to tie it up and send the money on its way.”

“That seems fine,” replied Seungcheol, “Thank you for your help. Please get that done as fast as possible, last Jun talked to them, they were preparing to ship the order. We don’t want to delay their payment any more than we need to.”

“Of course. I will contact you with our meeting place.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Well, we must be on our way now. Nice meeting you, Changseok-ssi.” He bowed respectfully. “Hopefully our relationship will be a fruitful one.”

“Nice meeting you too. I will expect you in a week.”

 

As Sebong walked away, Jeonghan lingered, frowning at the boy whose gaze had never once left the ground since he appeared with Changseok. An unsettling feeling washed over him, sending a chill rushing through his veins and capillaries.

“Jeonghan?” Called Seungcheol.

“Yes, coming,” replied Jeonghan. He bowed warmly and respectfully, eyeing the boy one last time before rejoining his members.


	3. Business as (Un)usual

Jeonghan stood underneath the hot summer sun, feeling it bake his hair and simmer his brain. It was an almost unbearably hot summer day, and he wished for nothing more than to go back inside and change into a t-shirt and jeans. But were he to do that, he would instantly be severely underdressed. The location Changseok contacted them with was his own apartment, and it was hardly in a place of town where such casual attire was the norm. So he stood waiting in the summer heat with his members, all dressed to the nines in expensive (and very uncomfortable) suits.

Mingyu was keeping the van running (mostly to ensure it was nice and cool by the time they had to leave) while Sebong waited on Jun and Jisoo. The latter was transferring files from Seungkwan’s computer onto his own laptop. Seungkwan had expertly hacked into Ssang Yong Pa’s databases to get more information on Changseok and gave all he managed to gather to Jisoo. The elder was himself a living database of information regarding rivals, allies, and meetups for exchanges. If there was anyone who would dig up any and all links to Changseok, it was Jisoo. As for Jun, he was on the phone, speaking in rushed Mandarin. Even by the time Jisoo came out, he was still pacing back and forth, biting his lip as he listened intently.

 

By the time he finished, Minghao approached him, having been listening in on the conversation. “There’s a problem?” he asked, placing a hand on the elder’s shoulder.

Jun subconsciously slipped his arm around Minghao’s waist, “Yeah, with the arms deal.”

“Changseok said he’d take care of it,” said Seungcheol, head snapping up.

“Apparently he didn’t. They just told me they still haven’t received the money; more than a week since they shipped the order.”

“How pissed off are they?”

Jun shook his head, “Not very, actually. They’re mostly just concerned and surprised. They told me since we’re typically on top of everything, they aren’t going to be hostile…yet. I told them we’d look into it.”

“Good. We’ll ask Changseok today.”

Wonwoo bit his thumb, staring at a point on the ground, deep in thought. “I don’t trust him,” he murmured.

Seungcheol shrugged. “He’s sketchy but all his docs check out. Let’s not assumed anything yet.”

“And,” began Soonyoung, attempting to brighten the mood, “If he turns out to be a scumbag, we can have fun planning his assassination, no big deal.”

 

Their laughter was cut by Mingyu pressing the horn of the van, hard. “Can you idiots hurry up?” he yelled, “I’ve been waiting here for God knows how long! The van won’t get any cooler than this!”

## ////

Pulling up to Changseok’s apartment complex, Sebong instantly felt small. The building was lavish with a capital L: all soft blue-grey steel and huge pristine windows. One would think Sebong would be used to such sights of luxury and splendor, but truth be told, such things were a rare sight.

Seokmin whistled in awe. “Well then… This is a surprise.”

“Yeah,” commented Minghao, “I got the feeling he was loaded but this is ridiculous.”

 

They were able to quickly bypass the security check, which was just a simple pat down. The concierge recognized them and sent them through with a nod. They (barely) managed to fit themselves in the elevator, heading for the very top floor.

“Remind me,” started Chan, to fill in the silence, “What’s on the agenda?”

Seungcheol ticked off the tasks on his fingers. “First, we need to ask about the China deal. Getting that cleared in our number one priority now. Second, we need to ask about his links to high ranking Ssang Yong Pa members and make sure there’s nothing sketchy there. Finally, we need to establish our terms of agreement and sign the contract.”

“Unless something _doesn’t_ check out,” continued Jeonghan, “In which case, we investigate it and make a call based on that.”

There was another short silence, which Seungcheol quickly broke. “Oh, and Mingyu, no taking _anything_.”

Amid the giggles, Mingyu yelled in irritating. “Hey! I’m not a kleptomaniac! You know damn well I don’t take anything unless you tell me to.”

“We know,” replied Wonwoo, slinging his arm around the younger’s shoulder, “We just like seeing you get riled up.”

 

The elevator doors opened to a brightly lit, exquisitely decorated, _gorgeous_ foyer. It was all Sebong could do to stop their jaws dropping to the floor. It looked less like a foyer and more like a ballroom: the floor a gleaming porcelain, the wide staircase adorned with white gold rails, and a huge, diamond-embellished chandelier hanging above their heads.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit cramped in there?” Changseok’s voice came from Sebong’s side, where he was leaning against a doorway off to the left of the foyer.

Sebong slowly exited the elevator and bowed to Changseok.

“Your apartment is…” started Seungcheol, eyes restless, “It’s really something.”

“Thank you. It took many years to get it to this standard,” Changseok stepped to the side, “I suppose we should get started then. In here, gentlemen.”

 

Sebong walked into a very large meeting room. The wood of the shelves and the roundtable was a rich, polished mahogany; the chairs an expensive leather. A smaller yet equally lavish chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light into every corner of the room. In one particular corner, almost hidden from sight, stood the same red-haired boy they had seen only days ago at Jeongseo’s funeral. His eyes were still carefully trained on the ground.

“Please,” began Changseok, having stood behind the chair closest to the door, “Make yourselves comfortable.”

 

Seungcheol started the meeting as soon as everyone was settled. “Before we proceed with the meeting, we need clarification regarding a problem that arose around an hour ago. Jun?”

“The people behind the China deal called me this morning,” reported Jun, “They still haven’t received the money. You’re the one who volunteered to take care of it, what’s going on?”

Changseok smirked. “I thought this problem might come up.”

“What do you mean?” asked Seungcheol, brows furrowed.

“Sebong, I know you place great faith in your partners and allies, but I have reason to believe your friends in China have just been trying to use you.”

Jun almost choked on the air at Changseok’s comment. “Excuse me?”

“Jeongseo had been investigating it right before his passing. Judging by his notes, he believed that they were slowly but surely trying to scam you, trying to get as much money out of you as possible. In this case, it means lying about not receiving the money simply to get more.”

Jun had to stifle a laugh. He found the situation so ridiculous it was unbelievable. “Not possible. Firstly, I’ve known these people for years, even before I joined Ssang Yong Pa. No way would they do _anything_ like that. Second, if Jeongseo were to have suspected anything, he would have told us instantly.”

Changseok sighed, sounding almost nonchalant. “I found it hard to believe as well, but once I read Jeongseo’s notes… Well, the evidence is just too compelling.

Minghao gave Changseok a look almost as sharp as his knife. “And do we have access to these notes?” he asked.

“But of course you do. Boy?” Changseok addressed the boy in the same sharp, commanding tone. He emerged from the corner, reaching up to retrieve a manila file from one of the shelves. He walked over to Jun and placed the file in front of him, never once lifting his gaze. He then retreated back into the corner, wringing his hands.

“As for why Jeongseo didn’t share his suspicions,” started Changseok as Jun flipped through the notes, “That is strange to me too. I would have expected you all to be the first to know.”

“This doesn’t make any sort of sense,” muttered Jun, rubbing his temples.

“We can leave this conversation for a later date,” said Seungcheol, “I think this needs further investigation on our part anyway. Let’s move on. We noticed you have links-”

 

Jeonghan placed a hand on Seungcheol’s forearm, stopping his train of thought. “Sorry for interrupting. This is off topic but my curiosity’s getting the better of me.”

“Please, go ahead,” said Changseok.

“The boy in the corner, he was with you at the funeral too. Who is he?”

 

That was the only moment the boy lifted his gaze from the floor, staring at Jeonghan with wide, dark eyes. It was only momentary though; his eyes quickly locked back onto the floor, his small form tense. But that wasn’t what Jeonghan was paying attention to. He was focused on the look on Changseok’s face as his composure slipped and his arrogant façade cracked, if only for a fraction of a second. Changseok looked panicked, almost flustered as he tried to regain his composure. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation.

“The boy?”

“Yes,” replied Jeonghan, “Who is he?”

Changseok took a deep breath in through his nose, his eyes narrowing. “He is my property, and that is all you need to know.”

As Jeonghan opened his mouth to comment, Seungcheol kicked him underneath the table, shooting him a look that said, _‘not now’_. Jeonghan was forced to sigh and sit back.

“As a matter of fact, boy,” continued Changseok, “You aren’t needed anymore, go wait somewhere. You’ll know if you are needed again.”

The boy bowed and walked (almost ran) out of the room, softly closing the doors behind him.

 

Changseok’s arrogant façade was back on. “Now, where were we?”

## ////

The meeting went on for another hour, with nothing else eventful or unusual happening. The documents all checked out, and were the whole China deal mess not to have happened, Sebong would have little reason not to sign the contract. However, the speculations regarding their Chinese allies were too grave not to go uninvestigated. So the signing of the contract was postponed.

The meeting had not yet officially come to a close, but Changseok received a phone call and needed to leave. Rather than reschedule, he insisted Sebong stay until he comes back.

“Please, make yourselves at home. Feel free to roam around, grab food or drink from the kitchen, whatever you wish. Any private rooms are locked off anyway. So please, relax.”

Sebong were picking apart the notes Changseok gave them, cross-referencing them with files they accessed through Jisoo’s laptop. Changseok’s speculations were almost too shocking to be true, which is why a thorough investigation was needed before any action was taken. Jun had wanted to call their allies, but Seungcheol stopped him, saying that they shouldn’t know until they were sure of what was going on.

 

Jeonghan headed to the kitchen, looking for water to bring to his members, who had all been working hard since they stepped foot into the apartment. But something caught his eye, or rather, his ear: stirring coming from what appeared to be a closet or pantry. Walking towards it, Jeonghan saw it was more like a hallway, a dark one, the only place in the apartment where light didn’t seem to touch. Curiosity piqued, he walked into it, cautiously, only to find the boy sitting on the floor against the wall, staring at the ceiling. The mask was still obscuring the lower half of his face.

“Hey,” said Jeonghan softly.

The boy’s wide eyes shot to Jeonghan for a split second before he tensed, returning his eyes to the ground.

“It’s okay,” said Jeonghan as he crouched down beside the boy, “It’s just me here, you don’t have to be nervous. I’m Yoon Jeonghan. What’s your name?”

Not looking up, the boy shook his head, pointing to his mask.

“It doesn’t let you speak?” Frowned Jeonghan, the boy shaking his head in response. “Can’t you take it off?”

The boy shook his head again, reaching his hands behind his head as though to remove the mask from his face. His entire body convulsed as the black metal cuffs around his wrist (that had previously gone unnoticed to Jeonghan) shocked him.

Jeonghan’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. “Oh my god,” he whispered in shock, “Here, let me take it off for you.”

As he reached around, the boy grabbed his wrists, eyes wide and scared, softly shaking his head. Jeonghan gave him a soft smile in response, wrapping his hands around the boy’s fingers. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and the boy relented.

 

As Jeonghan tossed the mask aside, the boy rubbed his jaw, sore from staying locked in one position for so long.

“Better?” asked Jeonghan?

The boy nodded, still not making eye contact. “Yeah, thanks.”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Lee Jihoon.”

Jeonghan’s face broke out in a fond smile. “You’re from Busan, right?”

An embarrassed blush crept across Jihoon’s cheeks as he rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry… I’m not really used to talking much anymore.”

“Don’t apologize,” giggled Jeonghan, “It’s okay.”

 

There was a short, thick silence, which didn’t last long before Jeonghan cleared his throat.

“Why does Changseok refer to you as ‘property’?”

“Because that’s what I am,” replied Jihoon with a shrug.

“What does that mean?”

“He owns me.”

Jeonghan took a sharp inhale, running his hands through his hair. “But you’re not a fancy watch or a piece of furniture. You’re a human, he can’t _own_ you.”

Jihoon simply shrugged in response. Jeonghan sighed, carding his hand through his hair again. The notches against Changseok simply kept growing; and yet, everything he provided them appeared to add up.

 

“He’s lying to you.”

Jeonghan’s gaze snapped back to Jihoon as his brow furrowed. “What?”

“Changseok-ssi never sent the money, he kept it for himself. The notes he gave you are fake.”

“But they’re in Jeongseo’s handwriting, that much is unmistakable.”

“He used some sort of computer program to code Jeongseo-ssi’s handwriting. He typed the notes up himself. Knowing him, he probably made sure what he wrote couldn’t be disproved.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

“I’m sure.”

Jeonghan sat back, running his hand through his hair for the third time. This was a big deal if they could somehow prove it. Changseok must have been some sort of mole; possibly working for Ssang Yong Pa, or perhaps even another gang.

“Holy shit…” Breathed Jeonghan. “Thank you Jihoon.”

“Just, please, Jeonghan-ssi, don’t leave room for him to draw this back to me…”

“I won’t Jihoon, don’t worry,” said Jeonghan, gently touching Jihoon’s hands, “And please, drop the formalities, you can call me hyung. How long have you stayed with Chanseok?”

“He bought me when I was 18, I’m 21 now.”

Jeonghan was taken aback by that one, simple word. “‘Bought?’ Wh-”

 

“I see you’re as good with people as your reputation says you are, Jeonghan-ssi.”

Jihoon and Jeonghan spun around to see Changseok leaning against the doorway, the same old arrogant smirk on his face. Jeonghan stood up and bowed, closely followed by Jihoon.

“Forgive me, Changseok-ssi,” he began, “As I told you, my curiosity gets the better of me.”

“That curiosity of yours might get you in trouble one day,” smirked Changseok.

Jeonghan chuckled, almost genuinely. “I have no doubt about that.”

“You know the boy isn’t allowed to take off his mask unless authorized by me? _He_ definitely knows that.”

“Yes, well, it’s awfully hard to have a conversation if I’m the only one talking.”

Changseok’s eyes narrowed so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. “Well, speaking of conversations, I suppose we should wrap up the meeting.”

“I suppose we should.”

 

Changseok walked a couple of steps and bent down to pick up the mask. “Come here boy,” he called to Jihoon, fiddling with the clasp of the mask.

Jeonghan expertly moved to inconspicuously guard Jihoon against the man in front of them. He maintained a respectful distance from Changseok and flashed him a charming smile. “I can do that Changseok-ssi,” he offered, “If you don’t mind, of course.”

In response, Changseok’s eyes narrowed even further. He thrust the mask into Jeonghan’s hands. The younger of the two walked over to Jihoon, smiling softly at him.

“It was nice talking to you Jihoon,” softly whispered Jeonghan as he fastened the mask behind Jihoon’s head, making sure it was loose enough for him to breathe easily.

 

As the two walked away, Jihoon felt a pit in his stomach. He, more than anyone else, knew how powerful Changseok’s temper could be; most of the messes he had to clean up were his doing. Jihoon felt as though he had pressed the big, red button, and now, all he could do was wait for the bomb to drop.

## ////

“What the fuck...”

 

Back at the den, Jeonghan had told his members what Jihoon told him: that Changseok was lying straight to their faces.

“I knew there was something off about him,” growled Wonwoo.

“But it means nothing if we can’t _prove_ it,” muttered Soonyoung.

“And it doesn’t help that _all_ his documents have absolute _nothing_ incriminating,” continued Seungkwan.

“Well then,” began Seungcheol, annoyed, “What the hell do we do?”

“I think,” offered Seokmin, “I know a guy who may able to help us out…”

“Seriously?” asked Seungcheol, incredulous.

“Jihoon said Changseok typed up the notes using a program, right?”

Jeonghan nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, chin resting on his hands.

“If I can get something that we know for sure has Jeongseo’s handwriting, I know a guy who can compare them and see if this is a fake.”

“You have a freaking ‘fake notes investigation’ guy?” asked Hansol, bewildered.

“Perks of being in charge of our territories: ya get connections.”

“That is awesome!” laughed Chan.

“Alright,” said Seungcheol, slightly less frustrated, “First thing tomorrow, go with Soonyoung to get that done.”

 

“What about Jihoon?” asked Jeonghan, “We can’t leave him there, not when Changseok could find out what he told us.”

“We can’t exactly just stroll in and decide to take him with us,” replied Jisoo.

“There has to be _something_ ,” muttered Jeonghan desperately.

Silence fell upon the room. Seungcheol, deep in thought, stared at the ground before straightening up and laying back on the couch, against Jisoo’s arm that shifted to wrap around his shoulders.

 

“Mingyu,” started Seungcheol, voice far away as though his mind were somewhere else entirely, “You know how I said, ‘no taking anything’ when we were in the elevator?”

Mingyu nodded, making an obscure sound of acknowledgment.

“Well…”

## ////

Jihoon sat on his bed, almost greedily pouring the water in his glass down his throat. This was only one of two times a day his mask was removed: once for breakfast and once for dinner. He even wore the mask to sleep. Both ‘breaks’, you could call them, were one hour long, and during them, Jihoon drank as much as he possibly could. His throat was perpetually as dry as sandpaper; it seemed like no matter how much water he poured into his body, nothing could soothe the burning in his throat.

 

Suddenly, Changseok slammed the door open, almost making Jihoon choke on the water. He coughed twice from surprise before standing up and staring at the ground, heart pounding like a drum.

“You’ve been getting awfully friend with Sebong, haven’t you?” said Changseok, clearly not expecting an answer from Jihoon. “Did you enjoy your conversation with Jeonghan?” He walked over to Jihoon and gripped his chin, forcing him to look the elder in the eyes. “What did you tell him, brat?”

“Nothing, sir,” replied Jihoon, eyes wide and scared.

Changseok tightened his grip, almost leaving bruises on Jihoon’s jaw. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir, I-”

 

Jihoon never had the chance to finish. Changseok threw him against the wall. Jihoon lost his footing and fell to the ground. Rubbing his pounding head, he tried to get back up, only for Changseok to grab him by the neck, forcing him back down.

“I think you’re lying, brat. But that’s not the only thing you fucked up. You _know_ you’re not allowed to let _anyone_ take off your mask. But of course you’re just quick to say yes to any pretty boy who looks your way, aren’t you?”

 

Changseok shoved him to the ground, Jihoon’s head smacking against the cold porcelain. He didn’t even try to struggle as Changseok tied his arms together, causing the cuffs to dig into his skin painfully. Jihoon knew struggling was pointless, and yet he did it anyway. Changseok roughly flipped the younger onto his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. At the sound of a pocket knife being flicked open, Jihoon froze.

“You are _my_ property, you belong to _me_. And if you won’t do what you’re told, I’m going to have to show you how.”

 

Jihoon’s breaths quickened as Changseok ripped a large tear through the back of his shirt, the knife barely grazing his skin. He was terrified, unable to brace himself for what was to come. Changseok did it slowly, methodically; slicing through Jihoon’s back so leisurely it was unbearable. Jihoon tried to bite back his screams, but it felt as though every single one of his nerves were on fire. The first few were slow, long, deep gashes, the rest smaller, yet just as slow and drawn-out. But no matter how Changseok chose to decorate his skin, it all hurt like hell.

 

Jihoon almost cried from relief when Changseok cut his hands free and put the knife away. He was in so much pain he was surprised he hadn’t passed out. He tried to move, but any slight tremor sent waves of agony up and down his back.

 

But it wasn’t over yet. Suddenly, his back burned as though hot coals had been thrown on him. Jihoon screamed a raw scream: one that had its epicenter at his chest and ripped through his throat with unstoppable power.

“That’s salt water, brat. You’re staying like this until morning.”

 

Changseok slammed the door shut, leaving Jihoon lying on the ground, sobs wracking his body.


	4. Little Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter was surprisingly difficult to plan)  
> (also please forgive any mistakes! i'm uploading this in a rush and didn't have time to proofread! i'll probably fix any tomorrow or later in the week!)

 

Staring at the building across the street from him, Mingyu wore a perplexed expression. How he was meant to scale an exceptionally tall building made _entirely out of glass_ was simply besides him. He sighed, bringing the neck of his black (painfully cliché yet well-fitting) turtleneck higher to cover his chin. Scaling the glass was a definite no, for _countless_ reasons, and though the concierge seemed friendly enough, he also appeared to be very good at his job; meaning he would likely alert Changseok to his presence.

“There _has_ to be one wall not made of fucking glass,” whispered Mingyu into the night.

He settled on checking around the building to figure out a way to get behind it, a feat easier said than done in the thick darkness.

 

Sticking close to the shadows, he stumbled upon a practically invisible alleyway. It was straight as a ruler, and practically as wide. But the pain he had to endure to squeeze through it was nothing compared to the relief he felt when he saw what was on the other side. Not only was the back wall of the apartment complex beautiful brick, but it also had a _freaking fire escape_. Mingyu had to choke back a yell of pure, unadulterated joy.

 

Mingyu got to the penthouse with no difficulty. Well, _one_ small difficulty. The fire escape didn’t go all the way to the penthouse (go figure) so he had to climb the rest of the way up. At first, he didn’t think there was an entry point, and his heart sunk. But then, he saw it: a small rectangular window, with no lights on behind it, and _just_ big enough for him to crawl through. Peering through it, he saw only inky darkness: no hint of movement. The window was simple, almost too much so for a building as lavish as this. _‘Must’ve been put in place of another,’_ thought Mingyu. Such a standard window wouldn’t have posed an issue to break into; that is, were it locked in the first place. All he did was fiddle with it, and it slid open, just a crack. Smiling from ear to ear, Mingyu opened it all the way and crawled in.

He landed on something soft and bouncy: a bed. He froze as he heard a sound. Looking around, nothing caught his eye. Mingyu brushed it off, a figment of his imagination. He got up to walk to the door, only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It was accompanied by a whisper, hoarse and pained: “Don’t…”

 

“Jihoon,” breathed Mingyu, rushing to kneel next to the small figure hidden in the darkness. Pulling a keychain flashlight from his pocket, Mingyu stiffened when he saw Jihoon’s back. The carvings were red, raw, angry-looking. Jihoon looked at him fearfully, unable to see Mingyu’s features as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

“Jihoon-ssi,” whispered Mingyu as he helped the elder to a seated position, “I’m Kim Mingyu. I was with Sebong today, remember?”

Jihoon squinted into the light, fighting to make out Mingyu’s features. “Yeah…” he whispered back, voice shaky, “Yeah I recognize you. The really tall one.”

Mingyu had to stifle a raucous laugh. “Yep, that’s me. Look, we’re working on checking what you told Jeonghan-hyung, but we realized it’s too dangerous for you to stay here so I’m here to get you outta here.”

“When he realizes I’m gone you and your friends are gonna have hell coming your way. You can’t-”

“But if you stay here,” interrupted Mingyu, “He’ll figure out one way or another that you’re the one who gave us information. Then he’ll kill you or hurt you even worse, and then he’ll give us hell anyway. Jihoon-ssi, you don’t really wanna stay with him, do you?” Jihoon shook his head in response. “Okay then. Wait here for a few minutes.”

 

Mingyu stood back up, walking towards the closed door.

“Wha-” whisper-yelled Jihoon, “Mingyu! Where are you going?”

“Changseok’s office,” replied Mingyu, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jihoon stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why?”

“There are probably important docs in there, right? So if I manage to find something useful, it’d help, and…yeah.” Mingyu slowly opened the door as he spoke, peeking his head out cautiously.

“I’m coming with you then.”

“Jihoon-ssi, you’re hurt, you can’t-”

“Changseok-ssi has alarms set up all across the apartment in case I try to leave. I know where they are. If you go alone he’ll definitely catch you.” Mingyu pointed questioningly to the window. “Oh… That only activates when the window’s locked. Changseok-ssi left it open, to taunt me or something, I don't know.” Jihoon shrugged, only to wince two seconds later.

“Okay then, you make a good point. But if it’s too hard for you to walk you’re staying here.”

 

////

 

Jihoon, walking shakily while aided by leaning on Mingyu’s arm, quietly guided the younger over, under, and around the various and plentiful alarm triggers. He had to repeatedly tug on the back of Mingyu’s turtleneck to stop him walking into an alarm, but somehow, they managed to make it without getting caught.

It was when they saw the warm light emanating from Changseok’s study that the pair froze.

 

“Fuck,” whispered Mingyu.

“He’s not typically up at this time, and if he is he’s _definitely_ never in his study. This is weird.”

“That plan's out then. Shit, okay. I can’t carry you down to the fire-escape, climbing the wall alone was hard enough. And there’s probably an alarm on the elevator, isn’t-” He stopped as he noticed Jihoon shaking his head. “Wait there isn’t?” asked Mingyu, eyes hopeful.

“No, but it’s too loud,” replied Jihoon, “He’d hear us.”

Mingyu mumbled as he brainstormed to himself. “Okay, no elevator, no window. Maybe be we could wait until Changseok sleeps? That’s too risky though. But maybe-”

Jihoon’s eyes widened, and he patted Mingyu’s arm excitedly. “I know, I remember. In the kitchen, way at the back, there’s a door. It’s meant to be a secret way in and out when Changseok-ssi has ‘special’ guests. I’m almost 100% sure it doesn’t have a lock on it, or an alarm. We can go through there."

 

Jihoon guided Mingyu to the kitchen, where they could walk more comfortably thanks to the absence of any alarms. The door was probably the one normal, simple thing in the house; made of regular, good old wood.

Suddenly, as soon as Mingyu touched the doorknob, a loud noise echoed through the apartment. The two froze, hearts hammering in the silence before Jihoon relaxed with a shaky exhale.

“That was Changseok-ssi,” he breathed with a timid smile, “We’re good, Jesus Christ.”

 

Mingyu stifled a breathy, relieved laugh as he opened up the door. It led to a stairwell that led to the back exit of the apartment. There was no elevator: probably a good thing considering their circumstances. Mingyu crouched down in front of Jihoon.

“Come on. I’m carrying you down,” he said.

“What?!” exclaimed Jihoon, somehow still managing to stay relatively quiet, “Mingyu, I’m fine. I can make it down.”

“Jihoon-ssi, I can see your back. You are not fine, and you definitely cannot make it down these stairs. It’s a hell of a long way down.”

Jihoon sighed in resignation. “Fine, you win. But past the stairs, I walk, okay?”

 

Jihoon clambered onto Mingyu’s back, the younger checking he didn’t feel too much pain. As they began their descent, Jihoon gripped Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Mingyu smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, Jihoon-ssi.”

“You can call me hyung you know,” said Jihoon against Mingyu’s hair.

 

////

 

Mingyu fumbled with the keys to the den as Jihoon stood beside him, trying not to look as scared as he felt. Never, in his living memory, was he free from someone’s ownership of him. It was mortifying, more than he ever thought it would be.

“How did you manage to find something that fits all of you?” asked Jihoon, trying to make conversation to distract himself.

“Oh, Jeongseo-hyung helped us,” replied Mingyu. “I think this used to be a café, but he turned it into a home for us. We still need to share rooms but it’s comfortable.”

The lock clicked open.

“Fucking finally,” muttered Mingyu. “There we go.”

 

Were it not for Mingyu pulling at his arm, Jihoon wouldn’t have moved. He had no idea why, but he felt a wave of terror wash over him, settling to form a pit in his stomach. It was all he could do to keep his breaths calm while his mind was running a mile a minute.

Jeonghan was the first to notice them walk through the door, the living room allowing for a perfect view of the front door. He jumped to his feet, waking the sleeping Minghao beside him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been anxious: so much could’ve gone wrong.

Mingyu smirked at Jeonghan, fake-whispering to Jihoon. “That’s how you know he’s been worried.”

Jeonghan responded with a scandalized look. “I was not!”

“Whatever you say, hyung!” sang Mingyu as he walked to the living room.

 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes good-naturedly before turning to Jihoon, fond laughter in his eyes. “Hey Jihoon. You okay?”

Jihoon nodded, struggling to keep his eyes off the floor for once. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

The tear in Jihoon’s shirt caught Jeonghan’s eye. He gently, wordlessly, spun Jihoon around, hands warm on the younger’s slightly trembling form; gasping when he saw the angry, raw, red cuts all along Jihoon’s back.

“Changseok, right?” asked Jeonghan, simply getting a nod in response.

“Why?” he whispered in shock, spinning Jihoon back to face him.

“He _thinks_ I gave something away,” mumbled Jihoon in response, eyes returning to the ground, unable to meet the elder’s gaze.

“All this based on suspicion, Jesus…”

“That’s just how Changseok-ssi is.”

Jeonghan felt anger well up inside him at Jihoon’s defeated comment, but he exhaled the rage out of his system. Now was not the time.

 

“One to ten, how bad is it right now?” asked Jeonghan, a question he started asking habitually ever since Wonwoo got really sick a year earlier.

Jihoon looked up, the question having caught him off guard. “Seven?” he replied after having thought for a few seconds.

Jeonghan nodded. “Okay. Jisoo’ll patch you up. If he’s even awake, that is.”

A hand shot up from the sofa, as though during roll call at school. “I am now,” came a voice thick with sleep, “Thanks to Seokmin.”

Seokmin grinned widely beside Jisoo’s head. “You’re welcome!”

Smiling, Jeonghan shook his head fondly. “Yes, they’re idiots, but they can help you anyway. Here,” he extended his arm, “Let me help you to a seat.”

 

Jeonghan helped Jihoon down to the empty space next to Jisoo, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jisoo smiled at him, the slight tire and extreme concern evident in his all his features. They were quickly replaced by confusion as Jisoo looked around himself, disoriented. “Y’know what would be great? If I actually had my stuff with me,” the comment elicited a laugh from the group, including Jihoon, “Gimme a second.”

While Jisoo was gone, Jeonghan introduced Jihoon to the rest of the group. Soonyoung excitedly proclaimed himself Jihoon’s roommate, the way he did it so over-the-top it made everyone laugh. It was strange somehow, associating names to the faces he’d only seen in immensely professional settings. He was by no means free of fear, but it was slowly sinking in that for the first time, he was, at least in the literal sense, free.

As Jisoo returned and began by cleaning Jihoon’s wounds, the group began slowly dispersing. Soonyoung did so with a wink, promising to tidy up their room so it was “at least inhabitable by the time you get there.” In the end, only Jeonghan and Seungcheol stayed, the two talking and laughing softly between themselves. Jihoon liked that, it gave him a sense of normality in a life where absolutely nothing was normal.

 

It was when Jisoo told him he would have to inject him with a mild anesthetic before stitching the worst of his wounds up that Jihoon stiffened.

“You okay?” asked Jisoo.

“I’m fine,” insisted Jihoon through grit teeth.

“Jihoon?” began Seungcheol, “Is it the needles?”

Jihoon looked down embarrassedly, nodding.

“It’s okay Jihoon,” reassured Jisoo, “We’ll start with the anesthetic and then I’ll see if the stitches are totally necessary or if there’s something else I could do.”

 

Without Jihoon noticing, Jeonghan had moved to crouch beside him. He only realized it when the elder started absent-mindedly playing with his fingers.

“Wanna hear something interesting?” began Jeonghan, “He’ll deny it ‘till the day he dies, but Seungcheol was also afraid of needles.”

Seungcheol groaned and slumped against the couch with a loud thump. “Really Jeonghan? Really?”

“You’re actually doing really well,” giggled Jeonghan, “Whenever Seungcheol so much as saw a needle he'd start freaking out.”

“How’d you stop being afraid of them?” asked Jihoon, trying hard to swallow his chuckles.

Seungcheol shrugged, not getting out of his slumped position. “I dunno, to be honest. I think I just got exposed to them so much I got used to it. Plus, Jisoo’s good at what he does, so that helps.”

“Now that’s favoritism,” mumbled Jeonghan, causing the other three to erupt with laughter. Amid the chuckles, Jihoon noticed Jisoo had moved away from his arm, and the needle was put away.

“Wait,” he began, “You’re done?”

“Yep,” replied Jisoo as he dug through his medical kit, the smile evident in his voice, “You’re not really supposed to feel it so much unless you’re really focusing on it.”

Jihoon looked to Jeonghan, who smiled warmly at him, still playing with his fingers. Jihoon’s heart swelled with gratefulness, the kind he couldn’t quite express properly.

“Feeling better about the stitches now Jihoon?” asked Jisoo.

“Surprisingly, yes,” replied Jihoon.

“Alright. Only two of the cuts need stitches, the rest’ll heal just fine without them. The minute you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop for a little bit.”

“I’ll be okay,” said Jihoon, softly, more for himself than anyone else.

 

The stitching process went as smoothly as it possibly could. Seungcheol and Jeonghan kept Jihoon distracted by talking to him about random things, Jisoo piping in every now and again. Thanks to the anesthetic, Jihoon felt nothing but a barely noticeable pinch every time the needle pierced his skin. The atmosphere was light and happy, making Jihoon feel happier than he had in a long, long time. When it was over and done with, Jihoon felt significantly better, his wounds securely bandaged up. Jisoo told him the pain would probably be back to some degree in the morning, and that he’d probably have to be on painkillers for a couple of days. Jihoon didn’t mind, it was better than having to deal with the pain alone while being forced to do all kinds of work.

As though on cue, Soonyoung came back to show Jihoon to the room and get him into new, more comfortable clothes; excited he didn’t have to put up with Jisoo and Mingyu anymore (to Jisoo’s offense).

 

////

 

Jihoon really _tried_ to sleep. Jihoon really _wanted_ to sleep. But he just couldn’t. He pulled up his blanket and rolled over onto his right side. There were rectangles of light from the streetlamps projecting from the gap between the two curtains. He lay there, tossing and turning until the bed Soonyoung worked so hard to make turned into a mess of tangled covers. The night dragged on and on, thoughts tumbling through his head too fast for him to process. After what felt like an eternity, he threw back the covers, stumbling out of bed as quietly as he could. He decided to go back to the living room, maybe he’d have better luck there.

 

Jihoon didn’t expect to find anyone still up, after all, it was four in the morning. And yet, there was Jeonghan, typing away at his laptop in the darkness. He looked up when he saw Jihoon standing in the doorway, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey Jihoonie,” began Jeonghan, a tired smile crossing his face. Jihoon’s heart swelled at the nickname, “Why’re you up so early? Are the cuts hurting again?”

Jihoon shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. Why are you up, Jeonghan-ssi?”

“Jeonghan- _hyung_ ,” corrected Jeonghan, “And I woke up early and just didn’t feel like going back to sleep. I thought that I might as well start doing work before the motivation to do anything slips away.”

 

Jihoon chuckled, still standing in the doorway as though waiting for an invitation to enter. Jeonghan was about to tell him to come and sit before he noticed Jihoon’s wrists. The cuffs were still on tight.

“Your cuffs are still on,” he remarked, putting his laptop to the side, “Come here, lemme see them.”

Jihoon looked down at his wrists, as though forgetting the cuffs were even there. He walked over to Jeonghan, who pulled him down to sit beside him.

“They’re locked on, huh?” mumbled Jeonghan, closely examining the cuffs. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” Jeonghan got up and went to a drawer off to the side, taking out two paperclips.

“When it comes to picking locks,” said Jeonghan as he bent the paperclips into the shapes he wanted, “These are your best friends.”

 

It took all of two seconds for Jeonghan to remove both the cuffs, but he slowed when he saw what was beneath the cuff on Jihoon’s left arm. On the inside of his wrist, was a word, inked into his skin.

**_OWNED_ **

Jeonghan looked at Jihoon, the younger’s wrist still in his hands while he looked at the tattoo with a blend of misery and fear etched into his features. As a sort of comfort mechanism, Jeonghan rubbed Jihoon’s hand, moving his head to meet the younger’s downcast gaze.

“Let me guess, Changseok?”

Jihoon shook his head, and Jeonghan sat there thunderstruck.

“Someone ‘owned’ you before Changseok?”

Jihoon inhaled sharply and looked around the room, his eyes flicking everywhere except for Jeonghan’s eyes. “Yeah, umm…” It was clear to Jeonghan that the younger was struggling, that he was uncomfortable telling him, or anyone, his story.

 

“Jihoonie,” cooed Jeonghan, rubbing the back of Jihoon’s head. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, okay? You can come to me whenever you want to if you need to talk, but I won’t force anything out of you. We can end this conversation now, and you can try to get some sleep if you want.”

Jihoon rubbed his arms, trying to form words with his heavy tongue and the lump in his throat. “It’s just… I forgot that was there. I was a little surprised.”

Jeonghan didn’t interject. It was up to Jihoon whether he wanted to go further into the story or not. He wasn’t going to pressure him in any way.

“I’ve been owned since I was fifteen,” started Jihoon after a shaky exhale. “My parents… They got into some sort of trouble and for whatever related reason, sold me to a gang. For the first few months, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was scary, but I managed to stay out of anything that could get me killed. It stayed like that for around a year. Then, they sold me to a sex slave ring.”

Jihoon shuddered and shut his eyes for a moment. Jeonghan held his hands in both of his own, not knowing what else he could say or do. Seconds later, with a layer of tears in his eyes, Jihoon continued.

“I avoided the worst of it, but it was horrible nonetheless. Before they actually started selling you to clients, they’d break you, physically and mentally. I barely remember any of what actually happened, but I remember being terrified all the time. I remember being hurt all the time. They gave me the tattoo; it was how they’d identify their slaves.

“Two years later, when I was 18, that’s when Changseok came into the picture. He bought me from the ring and used me as his own personal servant. It was better than the ring, but I still got hurt a lot. He never let me speak, and only let me eat and drink twice a day. But I never complained; because I knew if I did, he’d send me back right where he got me.”

“Why didn’t you ever try to escape?” asked Jeonghan, knowing the answer as soon as the question left his lips.

“I had nowhere to go. I’d end up on the streets and then caught again.”

 

Jeonghan didn’t know what to say. His heart ached for Jihoon, the boy never having had a childhood, never having had a proper family. Almost instinctively, Jeonghan pulled him into a hug, barely managing to keep himself from squeezing the boy closer to his chest and potentially hurting him.

“You’re not with them anymore, Jihoonie,” whispered Jeonghan into his hair, “Here, no one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna treat you like they did. And no one’s gonna let _anyone_ treat you like they did. I promise you Jihoon. You’re safe.”

Jihoon hummed contentedly into Jeonghan’s chest, a warm feeling running up and down his entire body. He pulled himself out of the hug, looking at Jeonghan with a faint smile on his face.

“Thank you. Saying that isn't enough, but thank you,” whispered Jihoon.

Jeonghan smiled wider in response, rubbing at Jihoon’s wrist. Looking down at the younger’s wrist, where the ink was deep in his skin, Jeonghan got an idea. He pulled the simple, black and white wristband (that he wore purely out of habit at this point) off his own wrist and onto the younger’s, moving it so that it would cover the tattoo.

“It doesn’t make it disappear, but at least now you won’t have to see that tattoo all the time. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

 

Jihoon was about to speak, but it was interrupted but a long, deep yawn. It was nearing five in the morning, and he still hadn’t slept.

“Go to sleep Hoonie,” cooed Jeonghan, “You need it.”

 

Listening to Jeonghan’s typing, to his voice humming ever so softly, Jihoon was finally able to fall asleep, mere minutes before dawn broke.


	5. Deadline

_Jihoon woke to find himself in a maze. It was night, the darkness around him thick and inky, the only light coming from the moon, half covered by clouds. It was freezing cold, the air biting into his skin. Within seconds, enough of Jihoon’s body heat had been taken for the tremors to begin._

_As though his feet were independent of his motor neurons, Jihoon found himself running. He didn’t know where, nor was he thinking about where to go. His feet were moving and turning in their own regard. He heard growling behind him, and it only made him push against the ground harder and harder._

_He ran for hours it seemed, his legs never stopping or slowing down. He was exhausted, the breaths painful inside his lungs and throat, but he couldn’t stop. No matter how much he willed them to, his feet just kept bounding against the ground, harder and harder._

 

_It was pure agony, a scream bubbling in Jihoon’s throat from the pain._

 

_Suddenly, Jihoon’s feet were no longer touching the ground, and he was going backward rather than forwards. He was being pulled back by some force, like a magnet being drawn to metal. The force seemed to be able to go through walls, Jihoon screaming in agony as he was forced through wall after steel wall._

_The force suddenly relented, Jihoon’s back smacking against the final steel wall. Though he had no strength left in him, he couldn’t fall to the ground. Changseok’s fingers wrapped around his neck like a noose, keeping his feet off the ground and his back flush against the wall. The fingers tightened against his windpipe, trapping the breath he desperately needed._

_“Thought you could escape me, slut?” growled Changseok. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”_

_Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at Changseok’s fingers, trying to loosen them. His chest burned like smoldering embers. He_ needed _to breathe._

_“You’re gonna die here,” leered Changseok, “I won’t let you live after what you did, you ungrateful brat.”_

 

_Changseok tightened his fingers once more, and Jihoon slipped away, falling through eternal darkness._

 

Jihoon’s eyes snapped open, and out of panic, he grabbed onto whatever was closest to him. Jisoo jumped with surprise when he felt Jihoon’s vice-like grip on his wrist, but Jihoon wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were wild, darting around the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jeonghan, fast asleep beside him with his laptop still balancing on his knees. Remembering where he was, Jihoon let out a shaky exhale and let go of Jisoo’s rest, relaxing back against the couch, catching his breath.

“You okay Jihoon?” asked Jisoo, placing a hand on the younger’s forehead. “You look feverish.”

Jihoon nodded, breath still unbalanced and shaky, “I’m okay, yeah…”

“You sure? You were shaking like hell in your sleep.”

“Yeah, just…” Jihoon rubbed the back of his head, mumbling. “Nightmare…”

Jisoo nodded understandingly, expecting that the younger’s sleep would likely be disturbed before he truly felt safe.

“You wanna get something to eat?” he asked, Jihoon responding with a nod.

 

Pushing himself up to a seated position, Jihoon suddenly remembered the throbbing pain all along his back. It made him squeeze his eyes shut and hiss through gritted teeth.

“Ow…” was all he could breathe out at that moment.

“I’ll get you painkillers, okay?” said Jisoo after ensuring the younger could sit properly. Once he left, the room returned to a state of stillness and quiet.

 

Jihoon started studying the room around him for the first time, neglecting to pay any real attention to it earlier. It wasn’t much compared to Changseok’s lavish, expensive apartment, but it felt like a home, something Jihoon hadn’t had in a long time. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he wondered who of the 12 boys was awake.

 

Beside him, Jeonghan stretched out, interrupting Jihoon’s train of thought. The action reminded Jihoon of a cat waking up after a really good nap.

“Morning Jihoonie,” said Jeonghan, rubbing the sleep and tire out of his eyes. Jihoon smiled at him warmly.

“Good morning Jeonghan-ssi – hyung, sorry…”

Jeonghan smiled as he sat up and placed the laptop on the coffee table. “Did’ya sleep okay?”

“Better than I usually do, hyung,” replied Jihoon, making Jeonghan laugh and massage the back of Jihoon’s head. “What time is it?”

Jeonghan reached out and shook the mouse of the laptop. “Noon. You slept a lot Jihoonie! That’s good, you need it.”

 

Walking into the room, pain medication and a glass of water in hand, Jisoo smiled tenderly at the two. He handed Jihoon the water and the pills, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“They should keep you good for a few hours. I don’t think the pain’ll go away entirely, but it’ll help. In a hospital, they’d probably give you morphine to keep you happy but a) we don’t have that, and b) no, for countless reasons.”

Jihoon downed the medication with a laugh, the tightness in his chest from the nightmare gradually loosening.

“You two should get food,” suggested Jisoo, “It’s noon already.”

“Yeah, we know,” replied Jeonghan, “Hey, did Seokmin and Soonyoung leave already?”

“Yep, they left around an hour ago. I told them to be quiet so they wouldn’t wake you.”

Jeonghan turned to Jihoon to explain, Jisoo already making his way to the kitchen. “They’re verifying whether Changseok’s notes were authentic or not. Seokmin has ‘a guy’.”

“Which is mildly concerning by the way!” called Jisoo from the kitchen doorway.

“C’mon Hoonie,” said Jeonghan softly, patting Jihoon’s knee, “Let’s get some food.”

 

////

 

Jihoon learned what it was like to eat comfortably that morning; to eat without having to force water down his throat, without fearing for his life every second. He got to know the ten boys who barely fit into the homely kitchen. Tallying them up, he listed them off in his head. Jihoon learned that though Seungcheol was the leader, he was a big softie around his members. Learned that Jeonghan was an angel, but never shied away from picking fun at _everyone_. He learned Jisoo, though quiet and profession, was, in fact, a huge dork. Jun and Minghao were sweet, funny, and innocent-looking, but there was no forgetting how deadly they could be. Wonwoo, though appearing cold, was a softie, albeit a little weird at times. Mingyu was the group’s calming presence, while Seungkwan’s presence could wake you up in half a minute. Hansol, though constantly a big dork, was incredibly clever, and a little mysterious. The youngest, Chan, though very much babied by his hyungs, was wise beyond his 19 years, good at everything he set his mind to. And from what he understood from the rest, Soonyoung was always just as energetic as he was the night before, and Seokmin was the most easygoing man you could meet.

Jihoon still felt strange and out of place, but he finally experienced something he had only been able to imagine for years: family.

He couldn’t eat as much as he really wanted to, his stomach still not accustomed to eating more than mere morsels, but he was happy and satiated nonetheless. Within just under 45 minutes, he felt like less of an outsider in the warm house.

 

At around 1 pm, Soonyoung and Seokmin returned. They were heard before they were seen, and judging by the look Wonwoo gave him, that happened _a lot_.

Seokmin was grinning as he walked into the kitchen. “Morning everyone!” he said, his voice chirpy.

“Technically not morning anymore but hi hyung,” replied Chan, swallowing down the final few morsels of food on his plate.

“So,” started Seungcheol, “What’d you guys find out?”

“Short version,” answered Soonyoung, “It took 20 minutes for Seokmin’s guy to figure out the notes were faked.”

“It took Jihoon all of three seconds,” began Jeonghan, flashing a mischievous smile at the younger, making him blush, “But good, we have confirmation.”

“Anything from Changseok?” asked Seokmin.

“No,” replied Seungcheol, “Not yet at least.”

“Hyung,” started Minghao, “Didn’t you say that if he turned out to be a bastard (which he is) we’d have fun planning his demise?”

“Ah,” replied Soonyoung, “I can only dream. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple anymore.” He crossed over to Jihoon amid the raucous laughter that erupted at his reply. “Jihoon, wanna help me find you some clothes?”

 

////

 

Soonyoung had led Jihoon to a storage room: impeccably systematic and organized.

“It used to be the pantry for this restaurant, I think,” explained Soonyoung, “We weren’t bothered to take out the shelves, so it became our store room, at least for everyday things. You can thank Mingyu for the neatness. Without him, it’d be a _total_ mess.”

Jihoon liked Soonyoung. Yes, his energy was a little much for him at times, but he was warm, easy to hold a conversation with. The two clicked almost immediately (contrary to popular expectation.)

 

“So, Jihoon,” began Soonyoung as he picked out an old t-shirt from Jeonghan’s box, “How much do you know about Sebong?”

“That you diverged from Ssang Yong Pa because you disagreed with them, though _they_ don’t know that. You have control over this small pseudo-neighborhood. And that you’re 12 members. Plus, I vaguely know your roles.”

“13 members Jihoon, you’re one of us now,” corrected Soonyoung, making Jihoon smile. “What about Changseok? How much do you know about him?”

“Mmm,” hummed Jihoon, deep in thought, “I don’t know too much. I know he’s not Ssang Yong Pa, though he has close ties with some of them. He’s probably part of something bigger.”

“At _least_ he’s not Ssang Yong Pa. What’d you do when you were with Changseok?”

“Nothing much. Mainly just accompanying him on meetings or collecting documents for him. He didn’t trust me to do anything else,” explained Jihoon, muttering the next part to himself, “He probably thought I was just a dumb whore.”

 

Soonyoung made a mental note to ask Jeonghan about Jihoon’s comment later.

 

“Well, you’re gonna have lots to do here Jihoon. We’re pretty much always needing help, so we’re grateful to have you, honestly.”

“Thanks,” replied Jihoon with a small smile.

“That’s enough clothes for now, what do you think?”

Jihoon nodded. “I can’t feel my knees anymore.”

 

The two boys laughed together in the storeroom, letting go of some of the tension that had become normal in their everyday lives. But just like all good things, it didn’t last.

“Soonyoung-hyung!” called Minghao, “Come in here, the notes guy’s calling!”

 

Soonyoung and Jihoon exchanged confused looks, putting the clothes to one side and dashing to the living room, where everyone was gathered. It was the completely wrong time, but this was the first time Jihoon actually thought about how 13 people was a lot in one space.

“Why is this so important that everyone’s here?” asked Soonyoung.

“Because hyung,” replied Seokmin, “You didn’t hear the voicemail Seokjin-ssi just sent.”

“We couldn’t make out anything discernable. It sounded like he was being chased, but they got him before he could say anything,” explained Wonwoo.

“Should I answer?” asked Seokmin, the hand holding the phone shaking ever so slightly.

Seungcheol nodded. “Put it on speaker. Everyone, come here, and don’t say _anything_.”

Seokmin pressed answer, expecting to hear Changseok, hoping he’d hear Seokjin. But what he got was something he’d never expect.

 

**Yankee Oscar uniform mike alfa delta echo alfa mike India sierra tango alfa kilo echo gold Oscar Oscar delta lima uniform Charlie kilo one eight zero eight zero four mike india delta November India golf hotel tango delta echo alfa delta lima India November echo.**

 

As the monotonous, automated female voice echoed through the room, the 13 boys’ faces were painted in confusion. None of them understood what the automated message meant, not even Seungkwan or Hansol.

 

Suddenly, Jihoon’s eyes widened. He turned sharply to face Soonyoung, miming that he needed a pen and paper. The elder looked confused, but complied, bringing the younger a nearby notepad and a pencil.

“Jihoon, what-” Jisoo was cut off by Jihoon putting a finger to his lips as he moved closer to Seokmin’s phone, currently on the coffee table. One the message started repeating itself a second time, Jihoon began writing furiously.

When the message started repeated a third time, Jihoon ended the call and put the phone on airplane mode before handing it back to Seokmin.

“You might wanna leave it like that while we talk,” he explained before going back to studying his scrawls, “I dunno, it could be hacked or something.”

“He’s right hyung,” said Seungkwan, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Jihoon, what was that?” asked Jeonghan.

“NATO alphabet. Changseok-ssi uses it all the time to send coded messages. I think I got the message right but it’s in English. I don’t know what it means.”

Jisoo and Hansol crouched down either side of Jihoon, piecing together the message, translating it, and reading it out.

 

**YOU MADE A MISTAKE. GOOD LUCK. 180804, MIDNIGHT. DEADLINE.**

 

“Hyung…” began Chan, amazed, “How’d you figure it out so fast?”

“Changseok-ssi used it a lot when I was around. I kinda picked it up over the years,” replied Jihoon, scratching the back of his head.

“I guess this means the fight has begun,” mumbled Jun.

“So, wait,” began Mingyu, “What does the ‘deadline’ mean?”

Jihoon simply shook his head, no one able to answer.

“4th of August,” mused Hansol, “Midnight, why that date?”

 

“Do we know where Seokmin’s connection is right now?” asked Seungcheol.

“Hyung…” began Soonyoung, “I hate to say this but Seokjin-ssi is either dead, dying, or captured by now.”

Minghao inhaled sharply, the sound making a hissing sound through his teeth. “I wouldn’t be so sure, hyung. That doesn’t quite seem like Changseok’s style.”

“He likes to play games,” muttered Jihoon.

“I think it’d be a good idea if we check on him in person,” suggested Jeonghan.

“Jeonghan-” started Seungcheol.

“I know it’s risky hyung,” interrupted Jeonghan, “But right now he’s an important piece of this puzzle. Not only do we have to know his status as of now, but we also need to tell him to lay low and be careful.”

“I’ll go,” offered Wonwoo, “Hyung has a point.”

“Minghao and I’ll come with you,” said Jun, “Just in case.”

“You guys should go _now_ before anything else develops,” said Soonyoung.

The three nodded and got going, Seungcheol yelling after them to be careful and to report everything to Hansol the second it happens.

“I’ll be on hand, okay?” called Hansol. “Don’t make me sit at that computer for nothing.”

 

Jihoon cleared his throat, breaking the split second of silence that blanketed the room once Jun, Minghao, and Wonwoo closed the door behind them. “Seokmin-ah, is there anything super important on your phone?”

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Seokmin.

“Okay…”

“Why?” asked Chan.

“I was thinking we could keep it only to intercept the messages, it Changseok-ssi keeps sending them. You won’t be able to use it though, just in case.”

“That’s a good idea actually,” said Seungkwan, “I’d have to disable the mic and camera, but that’s easy enough.”

 

“Jisoo,” started Seungcheol, massaging the nape of his partner’s neck, “Could you go back over Changseok’s known contacts?”

“Sure,” replied Jisoo, “Anything in particular you guys want me to pay attention to?”

“Anyone with a knack for tech,” offered Mingyu.

“Yeah,” agreed Seungcheol, “Then Seungkwan can figure out how best to protect us from a cyber attack.”

“On it. Jihoon, I may need your help,” said Jisoo, Jihoon nodding in response.

 

“Jihoon-hyung,” started Chan, “How much do you know about Changseok’s encryptions and codes?”

Jihoon took a second to think. “Not too much. I only know what I’ve seen him use or talk about.”

“Could you show us? Even if it’s a little, it’s a start.”

“We may even be able to track his phone,” hummed Seungkwan, “Or break into it.”

“Ok,” nodded Jihoon, “I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Jisoo, you might wanna go with,” suggested Jeonghan, “Then Jihoon can explain everything at once.”

 

“There goes our weekend…” whined Seungkwan.

“Seungkwannie,” started Soonyoung, the laugh evident in his voice, “It’s Wednesday… And since when do we _ever_ have weekends?”

“You know what I mean! I thought we’d be able to rest more today.” Seungkwan pouted, making everyone laugh.

“Okay, okay,” chuckled Jeonghan, “Listen, the sooner you finish work the more time you’ll have to have fun. C’mon, you big baby.”

 

As they all dispersed, Seungcheol called after them. “Seungkwan that doesn’t mean rush it! Work hard and do the job well!”

“When do I _not_ , hyung?”

 

////

 

Jihoon sat typing out Changseok’s most commonly used codes and encryptions, Seungkwan and Chan catching on quickly and filling in any gaps. Hansol sat in the corner tracking Minghao, Wonwoo, and Jun, waiting for updates. Jisoo asked for Jihoon’s help every now and again, showing him faces and names he’s seen before in fleeting moments. It was relaxed; despite the tension they held due to Changseok’s threat, they managed to deal with it calmly. It surprised everyone, not just Jihoon

Jihoon found he knew much more than he thought he did, the faces all clicking in his brain, and the codes spilling out of him, the gaps minimal and relatively insignificant in the bigger picture. Now that he actually had a chance to get it out of his system, all that had racked up in his brain over the years came spilling out. His mind was working faster than it had in a long time, making connections between random pieces of information, allowing him to paint a bigger picture.

 

Once Jihoon had entirely exhausted his knowledge, Seungkwan had one more request, and this time, it was a simple one.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Changseok’s phone number, would you?”

Jihoon quickly recited the digits that had been burned into his memory. Within seconds, Seungkwan had found the phone and its specifications. With help from Chan and Jihoon, he tested out some of the codes and encryptions they obtained. It took less than five minutes, and by the end of it, not only were they able to track it, but they had hacked into the phone, its contents available for their use. Hansol and Jisoo’s eyes widened in amazement. Seungkwan left no trace, meaning there was next to no chance of Changseok finding out unless there was someone whose experience and skill beat that of the 20-year-old boy (which Seungkwan highly doubted).

 

There was only one problem. The contents of the phone were encrypted with something _entirely_ different, something none of them had any experience with.

“Shit,” whispered Seungkwan.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” reassured Jisoo, “We’ll figure that out later. You guys worked hard, go eat something, it’s been a while since breakfast.”

“Thanks, hyung,” said Jihoon, a small, proud smile on his face.

“Jihoon, let me change your bandages first, okay?” said Jisoo with a smile.

“Hansol, you coming?” asked Seungkwan.

“Nah, I wanna stay until the hyungs come back.”

“I’ll stay with you,” offered Chan.

“Chan, go eat, it’s okay.”

“Fine, I’ll get food for us both and come back,” insisted Chan.

“Why do you both have the cutest relationship?” cooed Seungkwan.

Hansol snorted, “You’ll reconsider that statement when we start screaming memes at each other.”

Jisoo placed his hands on Jihoon’s shoulder, ushering him out the door, a smile evident in his voice, “Please do _not_ do that!”

 

////

 

Jun, Wonwoo, and Minghao arrived at the location Hansol had sent them. It was an apartment in a student complex, small yet humble. Wonwoo rang the doorbell, and they waited.

“What if he doesn’t answer?” asked Jun.

Wonwoo shrugged, “We report that to Hansol, he’d probably ask Soonyoung or Seokmin for help since they know this guy, and we wait to hear back.”

“I can’t believe _that_ , of all things, is what you’re worried about, hyung,” teased Minghao affectionately, only to be met with what he was sure was _meant_ to be a soft, playful punch in the side. (Never trust Wen Junhui to realize his own strength.)

 

“Can I help you?” asked a soft voice from behind them, making the three boys spin on their heels. They were met with a man who looked like he walked out of some manhwa. His hair was a soft brown, his soft features forming a polite, cautious smile, his thin body donning jeans and a hoodie.

“Kim Seokjin?” asked Wonwoo.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied, anxiety growing in his features, “How-”

Jun stepped forward, whispering into the elder’s ear, “We’re friends with Seokmin and Soonyoung. Something’s going on and we need answers. Please help us.”

 

Seokjin’s eyes lit up with recognition and understanding. He nodded, features relaxing into a calm, collected look. “I see,” he mused, “Well, as of a few hours ago, I don’t live here anymore. I was just going to get some things I left behind.”

“Would you want to talk somewhere else?” asked Wonwoo.

“No,” replied Seokjin, “Actually this is perfect.”

 

Seokjin let them in, leading them to the small living space. Impressively, the apartment was mostly empty, save for a few chairs, tables, and books lying around. It was amazing what the man had managed to get done in only a couple of hours.

“So,” began Seokjin once they were all seated, “I assume this has to do with the voicemail.”

“Yes,” replied Wonwoo, “We couldn’t make anything out. What was going on?”

“Around half an hour after Soonyoung-ah and Seokmin-ah came to talk to me, I needed to go and meet a friend who needed studying help. On the way, these three guys ambushed me. They said who they worked for, but I can’t remember the name-”

“Seung Changseok?” suggested Minghao.

Seokjin snapped his fingers as the memory came back. “Yes, that’s who it was. Anyway, that’s all they really said. I felt someone put a rag over my mouth, and that’s when I bolted. I kicked behind me blindly, managed to kick whoever it was in the shin, and made a run for it. My first instinct was to call Seokmin, but the call went to voicemail. I wanted to tell him what happened but when I tried they caught up with me, that’s why you couldn’t make anything out. I managed to get away but lost my phone in the process. And that’s the whole story.”

“Changseok made a call from your phone,” explained Wonwoo, “It was an automated message, NATO alphabet.” Wonwoo fished a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Seokjin. “Here’s a rough translation of what it said.”

 

Seokjin’s eyebrows furrowed as he read through the message twice over. “I don’t understand… Why would he send this?”

“He’s lied to us,” began Jun, “He claimed that he would be our new advisor since Jeongseo, our previous one, died. I’m starting to think that’s a lie, but anyway, he’s why Seokmin and Soonyoung-hyung visited you today. He’s the one who faked those documents, he wants to start a conflict between us and our allies. His slave was the one who told us this, and to ensure his safety, we took him away from that man. It seems like he views that as an act of war.”

“Secrets kill,” hummed Seokjin, “They eat up the good in a person and leave chaos and destruction. It seems like he has some pretty big secrets. What does the deadline mean? It’s a week from today.”

“We don’t know,” replied Wonwoo, “That’s our major concern right now; figuring out what he means.”

“Until we figure it out,” continued Minghao, handing Seokjin a disposable phone, “We think it’d be a good idea for you to lay low a little bit. Go somewhere preferably outside this area. If anything happens, use this phone to tell us. Our friend, Seungkwan, modified it so that intercepting or tracking it is practically impossible.”

“Okay,” replied Seokjin, running his hands over his face, “I understand. Thank you.”

Wonwoo nodded, “We should be thanking you for understanding. I know it’s a lot to absorb all at once.”

Seokjin shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Seriously?” asked Minghao, after a beat of silence.

“You do _not_ want to know,” replied Seokjin, eliciting laughter among the four men. “Anyway, do you guys have any other suggestions.”

“Stay alive?” suggested Jun with a shrug.

“Will do,” chuckled Seokjin.

 

After walking Seokjin to his car, the three boys stood outside the student complex, Minghao letting out a heavy exhale, resting his head on Jun’s shoulder.

“Now what?” he asked.

“What do you mean HaoHao?” asked Jun, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do we move forward from here?”

Wonwoo sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know Hao. But we’re not gonna figure it out here on the sidewalk.”

“He’s right,” agreed Jun, “And anyway I’m hungry. Stop sulking let’s go home.”

Minghao pushed himself away from Jun, who already had a mischievous smile on his face. “Firstly, rude. Second, you’re always hungry. Third, yeah let’s go home.”

“Wow HaoHao,” replied Jun, “You’re losing your bite, that was not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Wonwoo groaned just as Minghao playfully swat at Jun’s arm. “If you two don’t stop squabbling I’m leaving and will make you walk home.”

The other two boys laughed, knowing Wonwoo well enough to know the threat was as empty as a well in the Atacama Desert. They quickly fell into step with him, walking to their car together.

 

////

 

_“Boss, I’m sorry, we lost them.”_

_“Again?! What the hell do I pay you for?”_

_“The one who was driving – Wonwoo, he’s good. He must have known we were following them.”_

_“What the hell are we gonna do for the deadline now, huh? We can’t give them an empty threat!”_

_“If I may, boss. I have an idea.”_

_“Well?”_

_“If we stir up some conflict a little closer to home, that should keep them distracted enough.”_

_“Hmm… Keep talking.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking of adding more bts members as characters  
> i probably won't add all of them but maybe two more???


	6. You KILLED cmzvnlx-pjuqq

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i haven't proof-read this cuz i'm t i r e d so i'll fix any mistakes when i read back over this and facepalm at my dumbness

It was one of those nights. Jihoon’s mind wasn’t switching off, his thoughts refusing to quiet down. He had many a night where he couldn’t sleep ever since he left Changseok, but this was different. This had _weight_. A heaviness he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried. And yet, he stayed in bed, hoping persistence would make the weight relent and allow him to drift away. Though he knew he probably should, he couldn’t bring himself to bother anyone, especially not Soonyoung, who had spent countless late nights working until he could barely keep his eyes open.

So he just stayed in bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling as the room changed color with different shades of the night. Were the weight replaced by blissful lightness, this would’ve lulled Jihoon so sleep within seconds. But there was no bliss, there was no peaceful lightness, there was just _weight_. All he could manage was to drift in and out of consciousness for seconds at a time.

In truth, Jihoon knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep, why his heart was beating faster than normal, why he felt a weight on his chest. But he wanted to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist, to sleep.

 

Three hours passed by slowly, and the room was suddenly flooded with a light, soft, blue. It was almost dawn. Jihoon’s muscles were stiff from laying perfectly still for hours. He _needed_ to move. Trying to keep quiet as he could, he walked into the living room, just hoping to work the stiffness out of his body, but he was stopped by the faint pink emanating from the window. It was a beautiful sunrise, and Jihoon was drawn to it like a moth. He perched on the window ledge, head resting back against the wall behind him. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as sitting on a bay window, but the ledge was wide enough to seat him cozily. He paid attention to everything. The way the light slowly crept down the buildings, the way the flowers and bushes swayed with the gentle late-summer breeze, he even paid attention to a silver-haired man sitting in front of a coffee shop, absorbed in a book.

 

He hasn’t realized he had begun drifting off until he felt something soft tickling his neck. His eyes fluttered open, and he found Jeonghan adjusting a blanket around his small frame.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Hoonie,” whispered the elder softly, a small, fond smile on his face, “Go back to sleep.”

Jihoon shook his head and pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders as Jeonghan sat on the ledge, straight across from him. “You didn’t wake me, hyung,” smiled Jihoon, “I was barely drifting off.”

Jeonghan looked worried. “You don’t look like you’ve slept at all Hoonie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” replied Jihoon in a quiet voice, “Just thinking…”

“Ah…” said Jeonghan, before falling silent and watching the sunrise with Jihoon. It was a slow, lazy sunrise, but beautiful nonetheless, the rays colored an orange-pink, peeking out through the few, wispy clouds. Jihoon couldn’t enjoy it as well as he wanted to though. He sat picking at the skin of his knees, mind scrambling again, like eggs in a pan.

 

“They’re coming back,” mumbled Jihoon, almost to himself.

“Hmm?”

“I can remember more…” clarified Jihoon, making a clear point of looking straight out the window and nowhere else.

“Is that why you haven’t slept?” asked Jeonghan, voice soft.

Jihoon nodded in response. “Now that I’m not in survival mode all the time… It’s like a locked door’s swung open. Everything’s coming back.”

Jihoon winced, the action almost unnoticeable were Jeonghan not paying attention to every inch of the younger’s face. He pulled Jihoon’s legs on top of his own, moving so he would be closer to the younger. “Nightmares?” he asked, trying to fully understand what Jihoon was enduring.

“No, just memories. But it’s a lot all at once… I couldn’t manage to stay asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake anyone Jihoonie?”

Jihoon snorted bitterly. “You guys have barely been managing to rest. The deadline today, the guy following Wonwoo, Jun, and Minghao; I’m not gonna add to that.”

“Jihoon…” sighed Jeonghan, “Y’know what Sebong’s always been? Family. Now that you’re here, that means you’re family too. Jihoonie, we love you, all of us. _I_ love you. How could you think of yourself as just another stress?”

“Because that’s all I’ve ever been,” replied Jihoon, kneading his hands against his thighs, voice barely a trembling whisper, “Just another whore, a sex slave; just another ungrateful waste of food to Changseok-ssi…”

 

Jeonghan leaned over to hold Jihoon’s hands in his, eyes brimming with concern so strong it almost hurt. “Jihoonie, I _need_ you to tell me what they did to you in the ring.”

“Hyung…” breathed Jihoon, sounding terrified.

“I know I said I’d never push you, but this is important Jihoon, please. You’re safe Hoonie, I’m here.

Jihoon took one last look at the sun, moving to stare at his own thighs. His breath was shaky, but he took a deep inhale and started to speak before his throat closed up on him.

 

“Like I said, they broke their slaves before they sold them, to make sure they were compliant. They’d find out everything about you and use it as ammunition. They drilled it into me, over and over… That… That I was unwanted… worthless… undeserving… That not even my family wanted someone like me… They… They even kept me alone, so I wouldn’t make any friends. At first… I tried to resist them… to fight back… but they beat me every time. I remember once… there was a group in the ring who were on some hormone or drug that made their sex drive unnaturally high all the time. They weren’t meant to be sold, they were a punishment. Once, after I resisted them… they threw me in there. I thought it was for a few seconds, to scare me. I was there all night. It hurt so much… the whole night.”

Jihoon was interrupted by a wince that forced its way through his throat. Jeonghan held his hands tighter, rubbing in patterns as he waited for Jihoon to continue.

“I stopped resisting after that. Most of me doesn’t believe what they drilled into me, but… there’s a big part of me that does… and it won’t _shut up_. That’s why… in the end… they won… I was a compliant doll to Changseok-ssi. A broken, worthless, unwanted whore…"

 

Jeonghan’s mouth was agape, his eyes glassy. He gently pushed Jihoon’s legs off his own to move even closer to him. The younger was almost sobbing, tears streaming, breaths hitched. Jeonghan took his face in his hands, looking into his eyes. “Jihoonie… Listen to me caref-”

He stopped when he noticed how violently Jihoon was shaking, how he was clawing at his legs. He opened his arms, and the younger slowly moved towards them, Jeonghan holding him close to his chest.

“Listen to me carefully, okay Jihoonie?” Repeated Jeonghan, voice soft as he rubbed patterns into the younger’s back. “You _are not_ a whore. You _are not_ unwanted or unloved. You have 12 brothers now Hoonie, and we… we won’t _ever_ do what _anyone_ did to you before. I love you, I care about you, I _want_ you here, and so does everyone else. You _are not_ worthless. You always talk about how hard everyone’s working, but you forget you are too. Do you have any idea how helpful you are? How resourceful you are? How smart you are? You’ve done so much in only a week, despite how hard it must’ve been. And you are _definitely_ not broken.”

 

Jihoon shook his head against Jeonghan’s chest. “Please, don’t lie to me hyung.”

 

At this, Jeonghan pulled Jihoon away and looked straight into his eyes, his gaze sharp and soft, piercing and comforting, all at once. “Would a ‘broken, compliant doll’ have defied Changseok’s orders? Would a ‘broken, compliant doll’ have divulged important information that _completely_ turned Changseok’s plans on their heads? Would a ‘broken, compliant doll’ have agreed to go with Mingyu, to leave Changseok? Would a ‘broken, compliant doll’ have done any of those things Jihoon?”

Jihoon shook his head softly.

“Exactly. You _are not_ broken Jihoon, you are so much stronger than you think you are. None of what happening was your fault. The pain and fear you feel, the thoughts you have; they’re justified, they’re nothing to be ashamed of. They don’t mean you’re broken. Please, _please_ Jihoon, next time this happens, wake me up, wake Soonyoung up, Seungcheol-hyung, Chan, _anyone_. Whoever it is, they’ll let you in, they’ll listen, I’m sure of that. And on the odd chance that they don’t, they’ll have to answer to me… and probably everyone else."

 

Jihoon smiled and dropped his head onto Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispered.

“I know what it’s like to let worries consume you Hoonie,” said Jeonghan, whispering into Jihoon’s hair, his warm breath tickling the younger’s scalp. “Why else would I be up every day at some ungodly hour of the morning? I don’t want it to happen to you, okay?”

 

Moving the wristband so the bold, inked letters could be seen on the pale skin, Jeonghan lifted Jihoon’s arm to look at his wrist. Almost instinctively, he brought the younger’s wrist to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the delicate skin.

“You’re not owned anymore Hoonie. This is nothing but a battle scar, a battle _you_ won.”

 

Jihoon just smiled into Jeonghan’s shoulder, feeling heavy as his lack of sleep took its toll on his body. Jeonghan shifted position, his back against the wall, one foot on the ledge, the other on the ground. He brought Jihoon to his chest, the younger’s ear right above his heart, covering his frame with the blanket.

“Hyung,” started Jihoon, looking up at Jeonghan, voice thick with sleep, “The deadline…”

“The deadline can wait until _at least_ 9 am. Get a couple hours’ sleep Hoonie, you’ll need it.”

 

As Jihoon fell asleep, Jeonghan watched the light of the sun spread until it hit every corner of the neighborhood. He felt peaceful: watching a beautiful sunrise, holding someone he loved more than he knew close to his heart.

 

////

 

“Guys, there’s another message!”

 

At Chan’s announcement, everyone gathered in the kitchen where the youngest had been working. It was noon: 12hrs after the deadline in Changseok’s previous message. And yet, nothing.

“This one was easier to crack,” explained Chan, “It was a vigenere cipher. There’s an address, then ‘too late’.”

“That’s Seokjin-hyung’s address,” said Seokmin, peering over Chan’s shoulder, “His old one at least.

“What do you think Soonyoung?” asked Seungcheol. Soonyoung had a gift for strategy, his opinion invaluable when responding to potential threats such as these.

Soonyoung sighed, running a hand over his face. “Not sure to be honest. Jisoo-hyung talked to Seokjin-hyung _yesterday_ , everything was fine.”

“So, it’s just an empty threat?” inquired Minghao.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. I don’t know how this guy thinks, at least not well enough to make a call.”

“He doesn’t do empty threats,” offered Jihoon. “But… I dunno this is weird, even for Changseok.”

 

“We should go,” suggested Jun after a beat of silence passed, “All of us.”

“Wouldn’t that attract too much attention?” asked Mingyu. With his primary role in Sebong being a thief, he was immediately made anxious with any great risk of being caught.

“Yeah,” agreed Hansol, “And shouldn’t Seungkwan-hyung and I stay here? I mean, that’s kind of our job.”

Jun shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about leaving anyone here.”

“He makes a good point hyung,” said Wonwoo, turning to Seungcheol, “If this is a red herring, we’d have to be sure no one gets hurt if something _does_ happen.”

“I get it, and I agree,” started Seungcheol, “But I still think Hansol and Seungkwan should stay here. Seungkwan’s good enough at what he does to intercept any possible threat over a mile from here.”

“I’m better than just “good enough” but go on hyung,” muttered Seungkwan.

“And Hansol,” continued Seungcheol with a hint of a smile, “We need him to tell us if we’re about to walk face-first into a mess. Besides, Jun, you trained them well. If it comes down to it. They can fight.”

Jun sighed. “Fair enough, everyone else?”

“Everyone else’ll come,” replied Seungcheol.

 

“I have a strong feeling there’ll either be nothing there or another message,” predicted Soonyoung.”

“And you’re probably right,” agreed Jisoo.

 

“Great,” began Minghao, a sly smile on his lips, “Let’s go get this over with. Would hate to waste a _whole_ other weekend.”

“You weren’t even there!” whined Seungkwan, smacking Minghao on the arm, “Why are you all like this?!”

 

////

 

Jihoon was waiting on the front steps of the home, the only people out Soonyoung and Jisoo. The three sat in silence, enjoying the late-summer evening air. In just a week, the weather turned from hot and sticky to warm and fresh. Sebong learned to enjoy these little pleasures, they often preceded weeks of headaches and potential injury.

 

Jun was the next to exit, sitting next to Jihoon. Without saying a word, he attached something to the waistband of Jihoon’s trousers. When he was done, Jihoon looked at him questioningly. The elder simply nodded towards Jihoon’s waistband, signaling for him to check what it was. Opening the black case, Jihoon was met with the handle of a simple tactical knife. He took it out carefully, examining it with wide eyes. The handle was thick and easy to grip, the blade short but sharp and strong, curving upwards ever so slightly. The blade and handle were both a deep black. It was a simple, yet elegantly beautiful weapon.

 

“It’s like mine,” said Jun, taking out his own knife. They were identical. “Minghao used them years ago but quickly became attached to the knife he has now. I figured you’d feel safer with a weapon.”

“It’s really beautiful,” commented Jihoon, gripping the knife, testing its balance and weight.

“Looks like you know how to use it.”

Jihoon chuckled, tearing his eyes away from the blade to look at Jun. “Not really. I know the basics and that’s about it.”

“I’ll teach you, don’t worry. Well, when this all settles down a little.”

 

It didn’t take long after that for the rest of Sebong to exit the home. They knew what the plan was and wasted no time. In the van, with Wonwoo driving, Jihoon sat with Jun and Minghao, them telling him about what it was like back in China, him telling them about what he remembered of Busan.

 

////

 

“No one followed us this time,” said Wonwoo, waiting for the remaining 10 members to exit the van, “That’s a good sign.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” mumbled Chan.

“Remember everyone,” said Seungcheol, “Anyone asks what we’re doing here, we’re clearing out Seokjin-hyung’s old apartment. Jisoo, stay in position until we call you, and let us know if anyone of suspicion enters.”

 

The 11 of them ascended the stairs, following Seokmin, who suddenly stopped, the rest barely stopping in time. Soonyoung was about to ask what was wrong, but the question quickly died on his lips once he saw what Seokmin was staring at.

The apartment door. It was wide open.

 

Seungcheol walked in cautiously, signaling for the others to wait until his order. It was a one-room apartment and wouldn’t take too long to search. Nonetheless, Jihoon gripped the handle of his knife; the rest bearing a similar stance, Minghao moving his own knife down his sleeve, concealing it with his hand.

 

“It’s clear,” called Seungcheol. “Careful though, it’s a hell of a mess.”

Seungcheol was not exaggerating. The apartment looked as though a drunken hurricane had wreaked havoc on it. No one could see more than a square centimeter of the floor, it was piled over with pieces of plaster, torn pieces of fabric, and papers torn out of various novels and textbooks that Seokjin had left behind. The place had been completely and utterly trashed.

 

“‘Too slow’,” said Jihoon, entirely out of nowhere.

The others turned to him, only to see what he had been reading. Scratched on the wall was another message encoded with NATO alphabet, this time one Jihoon read and understood with ease.

“Well, you were right Soonyoung-hyung,” breathed Mingyu.

“Jesus Christ,” said Jisoo from the doorway, his eyes taking everything in. Seungcheol called him in, figuring there was little chance of anyone jumping them. “Was this what they meant by the deadline? They’d just trash the place?”

“Looks like it,” replied Wonwoo, “But why? What’s the point of that?”

“Seokmin,” began Jeonghan, “Call Seokjin-hyung. There’s something we’re not seeing.”

“Might as well leave then,” started Seungcheol as Seokmin dug for his phone, “No point spending more time than we need here.”

 

They walked out the apartment complex in silence, choosing to close the door behind them. Truth be told, they were a little disappointed. Even if they found something horrible, they would have had _something_.

“Shit…” whispered Seokmin, entering the van behind Soonyoung.

“What now?” whined Soonyoung, simply tired of all the riddles and games.

“He’s not answering,” replied Seokmin, “It keeps going to voicemail.”

“Did Seungkwan put a tracker in the phone we gave Seokjin-hyung?” asked Wonwoo, turning in the driver’s seat to face the others.

“Yeah,” replied Chan, “Of course he did.”

“Someone call Hansol and tell him we need to know where that phone is _now_.”

 

After dialing three times, Jisoo gave up, a worried expression on his face.

“‘We’re sorry, your call could not be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again,’” he mimicked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

No one said a word. Wonwoo spun around in his seat and practically kicked the car into drive, heading for home as fast as he possibly could.

 

////

 

What would have normally been a 10-minute drive was condensed down to a three minute one. It was a miracle Wonwoo hadn’t completely lost control of the van: the speed combined with the darkness was a deadly combination. All 11 of them raced out of the van, worried for two of their younger members. In the three minutes they spent racing the streets, not a single possibility escaped their racing minds. For Hansol to be unavailable when that was his _primary job_ , and one he did exceptionally; alarm bells were ringing in all 11 of their heads.

 

Mingyu was the first to reach the door, about to smash through it before stopping at the last second. He noticed it out of the corner of his eye. The door that they _definitely_ locked before leaving, it wasn’t locked anymore.

“Someone’s messed with the lock,” he said softly, not knowing who was around him to hear it, eyes still studying the doorknob.

“They bumped it,” continued Mingyu, straightening back up, “You can see the nicks around the keyhole, probably amateurs.”

“I don’t think petty thieves would break in _and_ leave Hansol and Seungkwan unreachable,” muttered Minghao.

 

Giving everyone a look that told them to be as quiet as possible, revolver in hand, Soonyoung led the way into what was _supposed_ to be their safe space, but what now had the potential to become a war-zone. Minghao took up the rear, knife in hand, eyes searching for any other sign of abnormality.

 

Once the door was shut behind them, the 11 were cloaked in utter darkness. Someone had drawn the curtains, so not a single silver sliver of moonlight entered the home. There was no way they were going to turn on the lights. The last thing they wanted to do was to alert whoever had broken in (assuming they hadn’t left yet) that they had arrived.

 

Eyes locking onto an odd shadow perched on one of the stairs leading to the basement, where Hansol and Seungkwan would have been, Jihoon gripped Jeonghan’s wrist, nodding towards the figure. Jeonghan’s expression didn’t so much as flinch as he walked over to the light switch, flicking it on.

 

All they could see was a head of silver hair before a voice echoed through the previously eerily silent home. Minghao was the fastest to turn, eyes widened, wondering how the hell someone had managed to slip behind him.

 

**_“You killed Seokjin-hyung.”_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah most of this chapter *kinda* sucks. it was mostly a filler chapter for events to come so i was really struggling with writing it. BUT i did wanna get one chapter up before my exams because i KNOW that until my final exam is over with, i definitely won't be updating cuz where is the time hehe!  
> after exams though, oh boy i'm gonna be working on this a lot cuz i'm getting a lot of fun ideas!  
> also, if you solved the chapter title before actually reading the title, i'm sorry i spoiled it! (and to those of you who didn't, maybe i'll reveal how to solve it when i'm done with this fic!)  
> also, when i'm done writing this i'm gonna put up a page with links to all the edits that really inspired me to write this fic, along with a playlist to the music i listened to while writing it!  
> hope you're enjoying this so far!


	7. Broken Tether

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXAMS ARE OVER AND I'M FINALLY ABLE TO WORK ON THIS FEEL HOW HAPPY I AM

The swish of a bat slicing through the air was heard, Minghao meeting the cold wood with his blade at the last second before it blew his head clean off. He couldn’t see who was holding it. Every once of his being was consumed with trying to defend himself and his friends before one of them ended up with broken ribs.

The other nine members stood frozen. Everything had happened in the span of a couple seconds, leaving them no time to process what was going around them. Seokjin dead? Two random men in their house? Hansol and Seungkwan nowhere to be found? The amount of information sent their brain into overdrive, leaving them frozen.

Chan snapped out of it the fastest, drawing his knife and running to Minghao’s aid as he saw him backed up against the wall. He pulled the man off his friend, stepping in between the two with a hand outstretched and mouth open, ready to speak.

 

But the words died the second a click was heard from the stairs.

 

The silver-haired man had an Uzi pistol pointed straight at Chan, eyes narrowed and cold. He stood up from the stairs, walking to stand directly in front of the group. The action surprised even his black-haired partner, though he refused to admit so.

“I wouldn’t try anything, kid,” said the silver-haired man, voice colder than his eyes.

“W-where are Hansol-hyung and Seungkwan-hyung?” stammered Chan. He had been with Sebong for three years, yet in all that time had never been on the receiving end of a gun.

 

Seungcheol, however, remained unfazed, taking a step forward.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice unfaltering even when the silver-haired man pointed the gun right between his eyes, “What do you want?”

The silver-haired man laughed. “Do you really want to play this game?”

“It’s hardly a game when the other party doesn’t know the rules.”

“Seokjin-hyung’s dead,” said the black-haired man, voice ominously monotonous. “Thanks to you.”

“What do you mean he’s-”

“He wasn’t answering the phone…” whispered Soonyoung, cutting off Seokmin.

“What the hell are you talking about?” growled the silver-haired man.

“We’re not the ones who killed him,” said Wonwoo.

“I said don’t try anything,” warned the silver-haired man, “Don’t lie to us, you made your mark quite clear Sebong.”

“He was our friend,” insisted Jeonghan, close behind Seungcheol, arm out to block the rest of the group, “He helped us out. Why would we kill him?”

“I could ask you the same question,” snorted the black-haired man.

 

“Changseok…” whispered Minghao, the name only audible to Chan, who turned to face him.

“Who else could it be?” added Minghao with a nervous smile.

“The message,” started Chan, first in a whisper, then addressing the room. “We know who killed Seokjin-hyung-”

“You don’t get to call him that,” spat the black-haired man, aiming to hit the side of Chan’s head; the bat only stopped by Minghao blocking it with his forearm darting over Chan’s shoulder.

“We have a message,” continued Chan, “The person who killed him sent it this morning to send us on a wild goose chase. If you’d let me get down to the basement I can show you.”

“Chan,” started Seungcheol, “How do you know it’s Changseok?”

“Hyung, who else could it be?” said Minghao, echoing what he said to Chan mere moments earlier.

“And the deadline passed, hasn’t it?” added Chan.

 

The silver-haired man and the black-haired man exchanged a look. Changseok. The name was familiar. Their curiosity was piqued.

“You really have a ‘message’?” asked the silver-haired man, tone careful.

Chan nodded in response, eye contact with the man never faltering, his previous fear shrinking.

The silver-haired man stepped aside, leaving the stairs to the basement free.

“Jimin, go downstairs first, I’ll take the rear,” he began, then turning to address Sebong, “You try anything, you die, all of you.”

 

Once the black-haired man, Jimin, cut away the zip-tie keeping the door to the basement sealed shut, Chan ran in, straight to Hansol.

“Are you okay?” he asked, breathless, checking every inch of Hansol’s face for possible injury or harm.

“I’m fine, baby,” whispered Hansol, giving Chan a fond, reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Chan,” murmured Seungkwan, the smile of relief betraying his irritated act, “I’m great myself.”

Seokmin snorted and slung an arm over Seungkwan’s shoulders. “You _are_ okay though, right?”

Seungkwan nodded as Chan moved to make his way over to check on him. He was jerked back as Jimin grabbed him by the upper arm, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Show us the message kid,” he said, voice firm, yet not as ominous as it was previously. Hansol glared at him, ready to fight were it not for Mingyu’s hand on his shoulder.

 

It took a mere few seconds of furious typing for Chan to bring up the vigenere-encoded message he had received that morning. He stepped aside as the silver-haired man and his partner read it, heart pounding.

“That means nothing, kid,” said the silver-haired man, shaking his head, “Anyone could have sent that, and it could be faked easily. I’m running out of patience.”

“There’s something else,” started Soonyoung, after a beat of tense silence, “We got it a week ago. Chan, show them the voicemail and message on Seokmin’s phone.”

Chan made a step in the direction of a drawer, only for the silver-haired man to point the gun at him again, making him stop dead in his tracks.

“All that’s in that drawer are old coding manuals and a phone,” explained Wonwoo, “Let him breathe.”

At that, the man lowered his gun, keeping it close, his eyes hawk-like.

 

After playing the strange voicemail Seokjin had sent, Chan walked back over to the laptop to play the NATO alphabet coded message. As soon as the automated voice started playing, Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Yoongi,” he whispered, “That’s…”

“I know,” started Yoongi, handing the Uzi to Jimin, “Shit, keep an eye on them Jimin. I need to make a call.”

 

By the time Yoongi had returned, he was fuming. Without warning, he punched the wall beside him, the frustration making him lose control of his body.

“You guys are right,” he said, hands carding through his hair, “You were framed by this ‘Changseok’.”

“Seokjin-hyung,” began Seokmin, voice small, “He’s really gone?”

“Changseok or whoever it was,” started Jimin, “He sent us photos of it. They slashed him to bits. We don’t know where his body is.”

Seokmin groaned, leaning back against a desk for support.

“Why did you think it was us?” asked Seungcheol, tone far less curt and laced than it had been before.

“Because of this.” Jimin handed him a note, scrawled out in messy handwriting. “It came with the photos.”

“‘Keep your friends from meddling in that which they have no business in’,” read Jeonghan over Seungcheol, “‘Or more of this will come. This one’s on you. Be very, very careful. Sebong.’”

“What the hell,” breathed Seokmin, closing his eyes.

“It sounds more like it’s addressed to us than it is to you two,” commented Jisoo.

“Maybe,” mused Yoongi, “How did this Changseok guy even know Seokjin-hyung?”

“Want me to explain?” Jun asked Seokmin in a soft voice.

“Yes,” groaned Seokmin.

“Changseok was supposed to be an ally, but he lied to us. He faked documents and notes. Jihoon-hyung was the first person to notice this, but Seokmin knew Seokjin-hyung and wanted to verify with him. Changseok found out Seokjin-hyung was helping us somehow and tried to attack or kidnap him or something. That was what you heard in the voicemail. He got away, and we met with him to understand what happened. Today, we went to his old apartment because of that message Changseok sent us. It was trashed and ‘too slow’ was written on the walls. Now, we find out he’s dead.”

 

“How did _you_ two know Seokjin-hyung?” asked Jisoo, after Yoongi and Jimin digested the information.

“Yoongi and I met him in university,” started Jimin, “We needed help finding a house since neither of us could afford accommodation. Seokjin-hyung paid for the apartment above his own and gave it to us. He paid for everything until we were more financially stable.”

“So, it seems like we both lost a friend today,” said Yoongi, chuckling humorlessly.

 

Words failed everyone. No one said a word. Between Seokmin, Jimin, and Yoongi alone, the sorrow and grief in the room were suffocating. It was like they were underwater, everything slow, blurry, and heavy. The silence filled the room like a deadly gas, seeping through their blood to paralyze their brains.

 

“I’m sorry we locked you in here,” said Jimin finally, giving Hansol and Seungkwan a small smile. It made him look so unlike the kind of person who would be yielding a bat in hopes of revenge.

“It’s fine,” replied Hansol, “To be honest we didn’t notice something was up until we lost access to the Ssang Yong Pa database.”

“Yeah,” continued Seungkwan, “How’d you do that by the way?”

“Kid,” started Yoongi, confusion flooding his face, “We didn’t do that.”

“You lost access to the database?” asked Seungcheol out of shock.

“Unless it’s just down,” answered Hansol, “Cuz we can’t access anything on it. It doesn’t load.”

“They know,” breathed Soonyoung.

“We’re _technically_ Ssang Yong Pa,” explained Jeonghan for the sake of Yoongi and Jimin, “They don’t know we diverged from them and were never _supposed_ to know.”

“Is there anything we can do?” offered Yoongi.

“No, not that I can think of,” said Seungkwan, “It’s probably just down, right hyung? It does that sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” replied Seungcheol, “But just in case, shut down every single computer we use to access the database. We’re gonna have to put up a new firewall later, just in case.”

 

The atmosphere became so tense and brittle it could have snapped in two at any given moment. No one spoke, no one _could_ speak. The silence was neck deep as the 15 sat slowly being consumed by worry. Worry for their lives, for their work, for everything that kept them together. They were in a state of not knowing, the worst state anyone could be in at any given moment.

 

“Jimin and I should probably leave,” started Yoongi with a small cough, scribbling something down on a scrap piece of paper lying around. “Here are our phone numbers. If there’s anything you need let us know.”

“It’s the least we can do for almost killing you…” muttered Jimin.

“Thank you,” replied Seungcheol with a diplomatic smile. “Just be careful and lay low. Changseok is ruthless. We don’t need any more death.”

“We’ll walk you out, we’ve spent too much time down here anyway,” joked Seungkwan in an attempt to lighten the mood, making everyone laugh, even Seokmin.

 

They had barely made it up the stairs when Jihoon saw it. The broken window, a small, red, blinking light, the odd shape on the coffee table that hadn’t been there before. His mouth opened to shout to Jimin, to tell him to get the hell out of the way, but his voice failed him. Before even he was aware of it, he was hurtling towards Jimin, pushing the shocked young man as hard as he could.

 

Then, the blast sounded.

 

It was loud, loud enough to make them all cringe in pain and to make their ears ring. They instinctively ducked down, shielding their eyes from the blinding light and their heads from the flying debris of the coffee table. The noise resounded out the house and over the quiet neighborhood, and yet knowing how things worked, no police would be on their way.

It all happened within a few seconds, after which silence descended once more. A small pillar of smoke and dust was boiling up from what once was the coffee table, debris scattered everywhere.

 

“Is everyone okay?” asked Jisoo, the first to cautiously stand back up.

A series of nods and obscure sounds indicated that the group was fine, just stunned beyond belief. Jun’s eyes focused on a spot near the destroyed coffee table like lasers. A small white sheet lay nearby, not too destroyed by what could have only been a grenade.

“HaoHao, you okay?” he whispered to his partner, receiving a firm nod in response. Jun kissed him on the forehead before starting to stand, unable to fully straighten due to Minghao’s vice-like grip on his arm. “Let go of me a second, love.”

He strode over to the white sheet, carefully avoiding tripping over any of the debris.

“Jun be careful,” warned Seungcheol, helping and checking on everyone around him.

“I am, hyung,” responded Jun, bending down to gingerly pick up the white sheet. He read the note as he walked back to the group, eyes slowly widening and face draining of color.

 

“They know…” he said, defeated, echoing Soonyoung’s earlier words.

“What?” asked Mingyu, voice small.

“Changseok tipped them off,” replied Jun, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice deadpan, “Ssang Yong Pa know about us.”

“Let me see that,” growled Seungcheol, snatching the note from Jun’s hands, the latter resting his down between Minghao’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathed after reading the note furiously, passing it over to Jisoo.

“We need to move,” said Jisoo.

“No, we can’t,” said Wonwoo, “Where the hell would we move to?”

“All we can do right now is stay low,” said Seungcheol, turning to face Yoongi and Jimin, “You two should too. You need to leave _now_. Find somewhere safe to stay and don’t come back here or to Seokjin-hyung’s old apartment. We’ll let you know if anything develops or if we need you.”

 

Yoongi and Jimin nodded, sensing the urgency in Sebong’s leader’s voice.

“Stay safe Sebong,” said Jimin before shutting the front door, meeting eyes with Jihoon for a moment, “And thank you.”

 

“What do we do now?” sighed Seokmin.

“I don’t know,” said Seungcheol, voice small.

“For right now,” said Jeonghan, trying to pick up the broken pieces and work with them, “We can start by fixing the window, cleaning this up, changing the locks everywhere, and eating something. Nothing constructive will come from us trying to figure it all out like this. Let’s just take things one step at a time.”

“He’s right,” agreed Jisoo, lightly squeezing Seungcheol’s shoulders, “If we’re gonna lay low, let’s really commit to it.”

 

The group started dispersing, Mingyu to change the locks, Minghao and Wonwoo to fix the window, the rest to clean up the debris, before Hansol noticed the way Jihoon was uncomfortably clutching his left arm.

“Jihoon-hyung,” he started, the elder turning towards him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” murmured Jihoon, feigning a look of confusion. But Jeonghan was already trying to get a look at his shielded arm.

“Shit, Jihoon,” hissed Jeonghan, “That looks bad.”

 

Like rose petals, droplets of blood fell from Jihoon’s upper arm to his fingers, to the floor, creating a small puddle. His shirt sleeve was soaked. The blood flow out of the laceration appeared to have slowed and weakened, but it must have been gushing like a fountain at first. One thing was for sure, cleaning it would hurt like hell.

Yet Jihoon did not look like he was in pain, or at least he was not allowing himself to look as though he were. He simply stood there with a faint smile, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

 

“Please hyung,” he joked, voice weak, “This is hardly the worst you’ve seen me.”

“You weren’t bleeding this much before,” replied Jeonghan, accepting a piece of cloth from Minghao, tying it tight around Jihoon’s arm, making him wince slightly.

“Soonyoung,” whispered Jisoo into the younger’s ear, “Take Jihoon to your room and make sure he eats and drinks something. Losing _that_ much blood is a problem. I’ll be round in a minute.”

As Soonyoung threw away the bits of debris he picked up, Jeonghan was still checking all over Jihoon.

 

“Hoonie, 1-10?” he asked.

“5?” replied Jihoon. This worried Jeonghan even more. He hated the thought of Jihoon having possible nerve damage, or _any_ sort of permanent damage for that matter.

“Jihoon, you need to rest,” asserted Jeonghan.

“Hyung,” insisted Jihoon, “I’m fine. Let me help.”

Soonyoung reappeared and gently put both his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders to steer him to their room, giving Jeonghan a grin that was both silly and reassuring.

“I got him hyung,” he said, maintaining his smile despite how worried he was, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t escape.”

Jihoon groaned in surrender. “I hate the two of you,” he said, the words lacking any sort of malice, rather, drowning in affection.

“We love you too Jihoon,” replied Soonyoung, his smile growing fonder.

////

“You guys remember Namjoon-hyung?” asked Seokmin.

It was the next morning. The group had decided to simply clean up, Jisoo treating Jihoon’s laceration, and sleep, completely overridden with exhaustion. Luckily, nothing had happened throughout the night, and Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan had even managed to find a way back into the Ssang Yong Pa database. Things were finally back on track.

“Yeah,” replied Jisoo, “He was a friend of that kid in your university class, right? What was his name?”

“Jungkook, but that’s not the point. Apparently, he was friends with Seokjin-hyung as well, and friends with Yoongi-hyung and Jimin-hyung by extension.”

“Everyone knows everyone, it seems,” chuckled Mingyu, bringing smiles to the still tired faces of Sebong.

“He wants to meet with us. Him, Jungkook, and someone else named Taehyung,” explained Seokmin.

“How come?” asked Soonyoung.

“He didn’t explain much. Knowing how tense things are now, he doesn’t want to risk giving too much over the phone. He says he has a source close to Changseok.”

“So basically, he has information,” said Seungcheol, eyes hungry.

“Pretty much.”

“Who’s the source?” asked Jisoo.

“He won’t say. It’s someone _very_ close to Changseok, that’s all we know.”

“I suppose it’s to protect the person’s safety,” mused Wonwoo.

“When does he want to meet us?” asked Jeonghan

“As soon as possible,” replied Seokmin. “Preferably in the next two hours. The location is an underground parking lot of what was supposed to be a shopping center before construction stopped.”

“Okay,” started Seungcheol, “Jisoo and Wonwoo need to be there, who else goes?”

 

Jun was about to suggest something before Seokmin cut him off.

“That’s the thing, hyung,” said Seokmin, “He insisted we _all_ be there.”

“ _All_?” exclaimed Jun, Seokmin nodding in response.

“I don’t know why he’s so set on it,” added Seokmin, biting his lip in concentration.

Seungcheol sighed. “We’ve worked with Namjoon-hyung before. We can trust him. If he’s this insistent about something it must be important. All of us it is.”

“Except Jihoon,” said Jeonghan.

 

Jihoon had woken up dizzy and nauseated, the world spinning around him, and with a pounding head. The blood loss had taken a toll on his body. Simply put, he was tired and weak, very weak.

“Hyung,” started Jihoon, only for Jeonghan to cut him off, voice soft yet firm.

“Hoonie, you lost an insane amount of blood yesterday. I’m happy it doesn’t look like it was as bad as it could have been, but still, you need to wait until your body replenishes the blood you lost.”

“But I want to help,” grumbled Jihoon.

Chan laughed. “Trust me, hyung, because Hansol's with us, you’re gonna have a good amount of work on your hands.”

“Chan’s right actually,” Seungcheol thought out loud, “It’d be a comfort to have someone in Hansol’s place, just in case things go to shit.”

Jihoon thought it over, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

 

“Watch this be something else our Jihoonie turns out to be amazing at,” muttered Soonyoung, making everyone laugh, Jihoon included.

////

Jihoon was _bored_. He never thought he’d feel something such as boredom with how much of a mess his life had been, and yet here he was. Sebong had left just a few minutes ago, off to their meeting location. It was quite far off, and all Jihoon had to do was watch for any threats and be available were there any problems the others needed help with.

He had no idea how Hansol managed to do this on an almost daily basis. Jihoon would go insane.

 

There were various windows open on Hansol’s computer, all filled with complicated code. Looking for something to keep him busy, Jihoon skimmed through them, barely understanding anything. He did this for a good 10 minutes before stopping at one particular window. It held the information from when Seungkwan tried to hack into Changseok’s phone. It was all still encrypted, protected with a password; no progress having been made on it since.

Curiosity picked at Jihoon’s mind, and after several moments of contemplation, he decided to try his hand at decrypting it.

He sat for 10 minutes simply trying to remember what encryption methods Changseok was particularly fond of, scrawling his ideas down on a sheet of paper.

 

That was when his epiphany struck him.

There were 10 digits he saw frequently in his time with Changseok. 10 digits he was particularly fond of. Jihoon always thought they were just part of the man’s insane ramblings, random sequences that meant nothing to anyone, not even to him. But what if? What if those digits were the key to unlock a plethora of previously unknown data.

What could he lose?

Heart racing, the list of encryption methods forgotten, Jihoon typed the numbers in one by one, barely breathing from anticipation.

 

It worked.

 

Jihoon had to quell a shout of relief and celebration, immediately working on skimming through the various messages and notes. One, in particular, caught his eye; it was named ‘DRUG #547 RECENT REPORT.’ Jihoon started there, reading aloud to himself.

“‘Drug #547 is still under clinical testing,” he read in a whisper, “No human subject has survived dosage thus far. All subjects lived for 15-20 days after the first dose before dying of sudden and severe internal bleeding. Before their deaths, all subjects showed desired symptoms: increased adrenaline and decreased oxytocin. Subjects responded well to the conditioning. The only hurdle remaining is ensuring subjects do not die from the drug at the projected level. Alterations are being done, and further human tests are being conducted.’”

 

“What the fuck?” breathed Jihoon, noting down the key information before moving on to the text messages in Changseok’s phone. Most were banal, the typical communication Jihoon had heard and seen when living with Changseok. However, in the long stream of messages, one made Jihoon almost choke on air.

“Oh my god,” he said, mouth agape.

 

_‘Target – Im Jeongseo – successfully eliminated.’_

 

“Changseok killed Jeongseo,” breathed Jihoon, in shock.

Jihoon screenshot the stream of messages and decided to move on. The information could wait until Sebong got home; no point distracting them when they were trying to focus. He decided to continue reading down the stream, though nothing else appeared interesting.

 

Two minutes later, Changseok received a new message, and Jihoon’s heart almost stopped.

 

_‘They should be here at any moment. Namjoon has cooperated thus far it seems, he managed to reel them in under the pretense of having a source. All men are waiting in position.’_

 

Jihoon wasted no time. He glanced at the map on the computer while trying to get through to Seungcheol. There was nothing. No sign of threat.

‘Changseok went to long lengths to plan this,’ thought Jihoon, willing Seungcheol to pick up.

 

“Jihoon, anything wrong?” asked Seungcheol, his voice quiet. Jihoon’s heart sank as he realized they must already be in the parking lot.

“Hyung, have you made it at the lot?” asked Jihoon in response, trying to keep from screaming into his headset.

“Yes, why?”

“Get the hell out of there _now_. Changseok organized this all. You’re walking straight into an ambush.”

“Jihoon, spe- _SHIT_.”

 

The line went dead, the last sound a symphony of bullets.


	8. Who Is In Control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt bad for leaving you all at such a cliffhanger so enjoy this slightly early update!

By the time Sebong returned home, Jihoon was already an anxious mess; frantically pacing around the living room. As soon as he heard Minghao open the door, he ran to the group, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears.

“What happened?” he asked, breathless. Through the blur of anxiety and relief, he caught Mingyu leaning on Wonwoo, a grimace contorting his features. “Are you okay?” he asked, walking to Mingyu, breath hitching as he saw the faint crimson staining his trousers.

“We’re _mostly_ okay,” replied Soonyoung. “They grazed Mingyu’s leg. He’s lucky, they were aiming for Minghao and Wonwoo.”

 

“How’d you find out?” asked Seungcheol, eyes betraying his panicked state, placing his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders.

“I decrypted Changseok’s phone,” replied Jihoon.

Seungkwan and Hansol looked at each other, impressed. “Seriously?” they asked in unison, receiving a nod in answer.

 

Once everyone had collapsed onto the nearest seat, overwhelmed with exhaustion, Jun the only one able to stand to put away the weapons, Jihoon surveyed the room. Grief and frustration hung in the air, creating an ice-cold pit in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong.

 

“Where’s Jeonghan-hyung?” asked Jihoon, voice thin and wavering.

Seungcheol sighed, the sound defeated and miserable. “Changseok planned this very well, Jihoon. He blocked all the exits the second we got there. The window of escape was practically non-existent.” Tears began gathering in the leader’s eyes, his voice starting to diminish, “Jeonghan… we escaped because of him…”

“Jihoon,” continued Jisoo, unable to make eye contact, “Changseok caught him.”

 

The world went silent. It was like the split-second right after a bomb hit; chaotically silent. The explosion sounded as Jihoon bolted for the door. Luckily, Jun had come into the room right at that moment. Figuring out what had happened, he wrapped his arms around Jihoon, barely catching him in time.

 

“Jun , let me go!” cried Jihoon, his voice somewhere between an angry shout and a desperate plead.

But Jun just held him tighter. “Jihoon… Please stop.”

At Jun’s defeated, exhausted, despondent tone, Jihoon let out a mangled, raw cry, giving up and letting his legs give out from underneath him, landing hard on his knees.

 

“This is all my fault,” he said, voice small and quiet.

Mingyu limped over to Jihoon, heart aching. He motioned for Jun to go back to the others as he gathered the elder into a hug.

 

“Hyung, it’s not your fault,” said Mingyu firmly.

But Jihoon’s mind was frantic, tears streaming down his face. “I should’ve known earlier, I should’ve been faster… I shouldn’t have come, I should’ve just stayed with Changseok-ssi…”

“Jihoon…” whispered Wonwoo, heart aching more than it already had been.

 

“It’s all my fucking fault!” screamed Jihoon, grief tearing through every muscle, ligament, and bone in his body.

 

Mingyu hugged Jihoon closer into his chest. Jihoon didn’t resist, clutching fistfuls of Mingyu’s shirt as tremors wracked through his body violently.

“We’ll get him back, hyung. We’ll figure it out, right?”

Mingyu looked up at the rest of the group; their heads were down, the tears that had been trapped between their lashes flowing freely. Seeing no one spoke, Minghao broke the silence, voice small but sure.

 

“We’ll sure as hell try.”

 

////

 

Jeonghan toppled to the ground as a blow to the ribs sent his chair falling backward. A purple bruise – so dark it was almost black – had blossomed on his cheek and was swelling rapidly. He turned his head and spat, saliva thick with blood. He could feel the blood from his lip and jaw start to congeal, making expression difficult. And yet, Jeonghan laughed, the cut on his lip splitting.

 

“Having fun Jeonghan-ssi?” asked Changseok mockingly, looking at him with disgust and amusement.

“The time of my life,” chuckled Jeonghan flatly.

“Now, now,” cooed Changseok, the patronizing tone Jeonghan despised prevailing in his tone, “Stop being stubborn, Jeonghan-ssi. You’ve already lost, don’t you understand that?”

“You still have 12 other guys to deal with, remember?” retorted Jeonghan, trying to push himself back up. Laughing at the effort, Changseok pulled him up by the collar.

“They’ll come soon enough, don’t worry.” Changseok had a menacing, amused glint in his eyes, “But you can delay their suffering by simply giving me a couple of names, simple.”

 

Jeonghan spat in Changseok’s face, refusing to give him a single syllable. “Why you-” Changseok punched him across the jaw, the cut already there splitting back open.

“How stupid do you think I am?” started Jeonghan, breathless, “Did you really think I was just gonna sit here and rattle off some names like a parrot?”

“Would you rather I bring your leader in here and do the same?” offered Changseok, Jeonghan’s eyes narrowing. “Maybe doing so to your dongsaengs would loosen your tongue a little?”

Jeonghan’s voice turned deadly quiet, darker than the thickest of shadows. “I won’t let you touch them you fucker.”

 

“Except _you’ll_ be the one hurting them.”

 

Changseok turned to the owner of the voice at the door, a smile on his face.

“Bin Sangmin,” he greeted, shaking hands with the leader of Ssang Yong Pa, “It’s been a while.”

“Dropping the honorifics, I see,” commented Jeonghan, “You two must be close.”

 

Bin sighed, walking over to Jeonghan. “What a shame, you and your unit had such potential. What do you call yourselves now?” he asked, clutching Jeonghan’s jaw.

“Sebong,” spat Changseok, as though the word alone disgusted him.

“Pathetic,” chuckled Bin, releasing Jeonghan’s jaw forcefully, making his head snap to the side.

“At least we’re not the ones running after orders like dogs.”

 

Smacking Jeonghan across the face, Bin bent down in front of him, resting his hands on the arms and smirking. “How’s your slut doing?”

Jeonghan stiffened.

“Lee Jihoon, right? He must be treating you well. After all, he trained with _our_ boys.”

Rage contorted Jeonghan’s features, evaporating any warmth like summer rain off a roof. His eyes turned rigid cold, his stare piercing, painful, and blinding.

“You touch Jihoon, and you die,” he growled.

 

Bin simply smirked and walked away, pulling a syringe out of his pocket, whispering close to Changseok’s ear.

“I asked your lab for this. I believe you now have the perfect subject.”

“I thought it wasn’t ready yet?” frowned Changseok.

“I had some of my men work on it too. They’re quite confident now. And if he dies, so what?”

 

Changseok smiled, going to grab Jeonghan by the hair, exposing his neck.

“When you wake up, you won’t even remember your own name.”

He plunged the needle into his neck, Jeonghan hissing at the sharp, viper-like sting. Whatever energy he had left in him flowed out, forcing his eyes shut and his body slumping.

 

“Goodbye Jeonghan-ssi.”

 

The world went black.

////

Sebong’s home was eerily quiet. The life and noise that had become the norm were gone; it had left without a trace. Everyone was locked up in their rooms, neglecting food, water, and all other basic necessities. After all, Jeonghan had been the one who would push them to eat and rest. Jun and Mingyu were doing their best, but simply lacked the stubbornness Jeonghan had.

Jisoo and Seungcheol were the only ones out of their rooms. They were in the living room, Seungcheol lying across Jisoo’s lap, Jisoo idly playing with Seungcheol’s hair. It was a quiet kind of comfort only the two could share.

 

A knock sounded at the door, echoing through the silent house. Seungcheol and Jisoo looked at each other confused, maybe even a little bit anxious. Seungcheol hurried to open the door, ready for the worst, only to find Yoongi and Jimin.

“Thought you might need us right now,” said Yoongi with a small, sad smile.

 

Seungcheol let them in quickly, Jisoo getting up the second he saw them. “You guys shouldn’t be here,” he said, “Not right now.”

“We wouldn’t have taken the risk if we didn’t feel we had to,” explained Yoongi.

“We heard about Jeonghan…” said Jimin. The second of eye contact with Jisoo and Seungcheol was enough for him to pull them into a short, but warm hug.

 

“Thank you,” said Seungcheol, voice tight, “But you guys really shouldn’t be here.”

“Is Namjoon-hyung safe?” asked Jisoo.

Yoongi nodded. “They let him, Taehyung, and Jungkook go in the end. He feels like shit though.”

“How’d they even manage to get him to talk?” asked Seungcheol. “That man is like a steel trap, and a composed one at that.”

“They put knives to Taehyung and Jungkook’s throats.”

 

Jisoo and Seungcheol could only nod, falling into an understanding silence. They didn’t even want to try and imagine what such a situation would feel like.

 

“He wasn’t lying about the source,” said Jimin.

“Who is it?” asked Jisoo, eyes brightening.

“Changseok’s concierge.”

“What?” exclaimed Seungcheol, incredulous.

“His name is Jung Hoseok. 24 years old. He’s been working for Changseok for a little over a year. You can trust him.”

“Would he know where Jeonghan is?” asked Seungcheol, desperate.

“I’m not sure,” replied Yoongi, “Maybe. It all depends how much Changseok trusts him, which so far seems to be _a lot_. Contact him.” He fished a folded paper out of his jeans pocket. “It’s worth a shot.”

 

“Thank you, guys,” said Seungcheol, taking the paper and glancing over it, “Really.”

“It’s the least we can do,” replied Jimin.

“We’re trying to figure out where they took Jeonghan,” continued Yoongi, “When we uncover something, we’ll let you know. But Hoseok’s probably your best bet.”

“You guys really don’t have to,” said Jisoo, touched.

“We want to,” assured Jimin with sad eyes, “After all, we know how it feels.”

“We should go now,” said Yoongi, “Probably best not to try our luck too much.”

“Stay safe,” said Seungcheol, “And thank you.”

 

Seungcheol sighed as he closed the door, turning to his partner who was staring at the ink on the paper, his bottom lip taunt between his teeth.

“You okay, love?” asked Seungcheol, intertwining the fingers of one hand with that of Jisoo’s, who gave out a tired, unhappy sigh.

“I just want Jeonghan back.”

Placing a soft, quick kiss on his lips, Seungcheol rubbed the back of Jisoo’s hand soothingly. “Me too baby. And now, we have somewhere to start, right? We’ll find him.”

“I hope you’re right,” whispered Jisoo.

“Let’s go check on the kids. We’ll eat and then let them know.”

Jisoo smiled. “One step at a time, huh? Jeonghan would be happy to know he rubbed off on you.”

 

Seungcheol laughed, planting another warm kiss on Jisoo’s lips, this one longer, sweeter. When they pulled away, they kept their foreheads touching, basking in the sweet, beautiful moment.

“Don’t you dare tell him.”

 

////

 

Jeonghan’s eyes opened to a blinding white. White walls, white door, white floor, white everything. He blinked as his eyes burned from the brightness. His hand jumped to his neck as the area where the needle plunged throbbed. _‘At least it’s not bleeding,’_ thought Jeonghan, _‘Bastard did a clean job.’_

 

Out of nowhere, sound erupted into the previously soundless room. Speakers must have been concealed somewhere because the strange, distorted noise was so loud it was as though it were physically crushing Jeonghan. It was a tone, one single sound that infinitely ascended in pitch, never stopping. As it started, Jeonghan screamed, an excruciating pain erupting in his head. It was like a migraine, but infinitely worse. He was blinded by random, bright spots of color. The throbbing in his skull was so violent Jeonghan felt as though it would crack open at any moment. He was forced to his knees, fighting away nausea, gritting his teeth so hard he was surprised they hadn’t yet broken.

 

Then, the voices started.

_‘You are not in control.’_

The voices echoed in Jeonghan’s head like they were directly in his skull.

 

_‘Surrender. Surrender to the Shepard’s Tone. There is no way back. Only to endure this.’_

Jeonghan let out another visceral scream. The pain was indescribable.

 

_‘Make sense of your own disappearance.’_

Jeonghan felt like he lost control of his body. Like his soul was being forced away, locked into a frozen land where time simply stopped.

 

_‘You are missing a piece of you, where is it?’_

Jihoon floated to Jeonghan’s blurring consciousness. He thought of the younger’s sleeping body cuddled against him, looking so calm and peaceful in the light of dawn. He thought of how peaceful it felt to hold him close, to feel his warmth.  Tears flowed down Jeonghan’s face, landing in droplets on the white floor. To him, they looked red as blood.

 

_‘Follow me to this empty place. Take off the rope chaining you to this anchor. Take off your memories, your dreams, your desires.’_

“Jihoon…” croaked Jeonghan, the image in his head fading as his consciousness slowly slipped away.

 

_‘Above all, take off your name.’_

_‘You are a comet, shooting through space faster than light. A comet that has lost focus. Let me refocus you. Surrender to me.’_

_‘You hid a piece of you somewhere. You locked it up somewhere; somewhere that makes you squirm.’_

_‘Let me retrieve it, so you can experience what true power feels like.’_

_‘Just come to the edge and jump.’_

 

Jeonghan collapsed against the ground, motionless, tears still streaming down his face. What was he thinking about? Why did he suddenly feel so empty? Why was his face so wet? An image was trying to form, an old memory perhaps. It was so blurry, so distorted. Jeonghan tried to make sense of it, to see the faces in it.

But just as the image became clear, Jeonghan’s mind was replaced by emptiness; by an empty, white canvas.

 

For the first time, the world fell silent.

 

Silent, empty, and numb.


	9. Falling in Stupid Love

Sebong never thought they’d even step _close_ to Changseok’s apartment ever again. And yet, there they were; dressed in navy blue hoodies, faces obscured by cloth masks.

 

They had contacted Hoseok through Yoongi and Jimin, trying to establish a date and time to meet. Hoseok responded quickly, however, insisted only a maximum of three could come to avoid suspicion. After extensive debate, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, and Jihoon were chosen (though were you to ask anyone, Jihoon’s going was always definite. They would do anything to quell the ball of nerves he was becoming.) Hoseok sent the hoodies and face masks – making them look like simple repairmen.

After much whining and complaining from the others, Seungcheol finally relented and let Chan, Jun, and Mingyu tag along as backup, just in case. They were to stay in a café a safe distance away, wearing headsets so they could be alerted the second they were needed.

Walking back into the lavish apartment building, the three felt uncomfortably out of place. Not only did the beautiful building now look tainted, but wearing hoodies and jeans with only the simplest of weapons, they felt immensely under-prepared.

 

Hoseok met them at the front desk, giving them a warm smile as he walked out from behind it. His suit was a deep blue, a perfect fit. It made him look sharp and perhaps even cold, a direct contrast to the warm and inviting aura his expression gave.

“You’re right on time. Please, follow me.”

 

Without waiting for a response, Hoseok led them to an empty apartment on the first floor. It was unfurnished, not quite ready to be inhabited yet.

“As you can tell, this apartment is still under some construction,” said Hoseok, closing the door, “Thus, there are no cameras or microphones whatsoever. Please, relax.”

The three took off their masks, pocketing them for the time being. Following Seungcheol, they bowed deeply to the eldest in the room.

“Thank you for arranging a meeting so quickly, Hoseok-ssi,” began Seungcheol.

“No thanks needed,” smiled Hoseok, the smile warm and bright like the sun. “If only we were meeting under better circumstances. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I assume our time is short,” stated Soonyoung with a small smile, “So let’s get right down to business. Where is Jeonghan-hyung? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive, I have no doubt about that,” replied Hoseok, an air of somberness falling over his face. “To keep things brief, as you said Soonyoung-ssi, time is short, I’ve taken the liberty of noting down the precise address of the compound where Jeonghan-ssi is being kept, along with the key security points. Yoongi and Jimin dug up most of it, I simply collated it and filled in the gaps.”

Soonyoung’s eyes quickly scanned the neat, careful handwriting. “Thank you. This is incredibly helpful.”

“Yes,” started Seungcheol, “But why meet here for this? It isn’t exactly something that required such a risk.”

“I wanted to meet with you because there are some things you must know about Changseok’s background; what his role is in all of this.”

 

Jihoon’s eyes widened with curiosity. In all his years living with him and working for him, never had he gained anything concrete about what Changseok _really_ did.

 

“Changseok is the boss of a large crime organization,” continued Hoseok, “One that transcends the individual gangs and mafia already existing. Think of it as a commingling between all the major crime bosses – including Ssang Yong Pa.”

“That explains why there hasn’t been a war in a while,” mumbled Soonyoung.

Hoseok nodded. “There are occasional minor disputes, but this organization keeps the gangs from annihilating one another. It is imperative you understand that you’re not just up against Changseok alone – you’re up against Ssang Yong Pa, their allies, and at least 4 other dangerous groups.”

“So their resources are practically indispensable,” said Seungcheol.

“Exactly.”

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand over his face. “This complicates things a little bit. Thank you Hoseok-ssi, you’ve helped us more than we could have hoped.”

“The pleasure is mine,” replied Hoseok, leading the way to the door.

 

“Wait,” called Jihoon, Hoseok’s hand on the doorknob. “Hoseok-ssi, do you know anything about Drug #547?”

“It’s a drug made to turn whoever takes it into a living weapon,” explained Hoseok after a momentary pause. “It alters hormone secretion, making one aggressive, and most importantly, very open to suggestion. Changseok hopes to indoctrinate subjects so they become his own personal ‘super-soldiers’ if you will. So far, no one has survived taking the drug: they’ve died of either a brain aneurysm or hemorrhage. The latest news is that Ssang Yong Pa specialists have been helping develop the drug. As to whether it has become successful, I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’re testing the drug on Jeonghan-hyung?” asked Jihoon, anxiety making his voice tremble ever so slightly.

“I cannot say for certain. However, it is not unlikely, especially if their confidence is high. If that turns out to be the case, be very, very careful. The Jeonghan you will meet won’t be the Jeonghan you have known.”

“Is there any way to reverse the effects of the drug?”

“Officially, no, it doesn’t appear like there is. But I hypothesize that a strong emotional shock to the nervous system may have an effect. It may reset the system, inhibiting the excessive hormone secretion.”

Jihoon nodded, satisfied with the explanation he received. His fingers played at his lower lip as he mulled the information over in his brain.

“I sincerely hope you find your friend,” added Hoseok, sorrow entering his voice, making it drop half an octave. “Until you do, we’re here to offer whatever help we can.”

Seungcheol gave the eldest man a warm smile. “Thank you Hoseok-ssi. We’ll get going, I get the feeling we’re about to overstay our welcome.”

“Allow me to show you out,” agreed Hoseok, giving them one last, warm smile.

 

After ditching the hoodies in a nearby alleyway, the three made their way to their members, walking in a heavy silence. They updated Chan, Jun, and Mingyu on what they learned, the three have all but pounced on them the second they saw them. Anxious to get back to the den, the group began their trek back, letting off steam by talking amongst each other, letting themselves laugh while there was still room to do so.

While the five talked away, Jihoon fell behind. His fingers were still worrying at his lip, his brow furrowed as he stared at the sidewalk beneath him.

 

Seungcheol noticed. Worry starting to build, he fell back to walk beside the younger, catching his attention by pumping his own shoulder against his.

“What’s up, Jihoon?”

“Nothing,” replied Jihoon, “Just thinking.”

“That can be dangerous you know,” retorted Seungcheol, a teasing hint to his voice.

Jihoon chuckled but said nothing more. His fingers left his lip, but his gaze remained glued to the sidewalk, his brow still slightly creased.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a long silence. The words were so quiet they were almost swallowed by the faint breeze.

Seungcheol sighed. “Ji, you know there’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

“I know, but still…”

“The way I see it,” started Seungcheol, “There are three possible timelines, the one we’re in right now is the first one. The second one is where you still tell Jeonghan what you found, but you stay with Changseok, who most likely kills you. The final one is where you never tell us anything, and we get destroyed before we even know what’s happening. If I had the chance to pick again, I’d pick this timeline. I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“But if you pick differently, Jeonghan-hyung would be okay.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t be. No matter what, we’ve always been ready to do anything for each other. You didn’t have that Jihoon. We’re going to get Jeonghan back, no matter what. Just like we got you.”

 

////

 

It was midnight, and like a concerned parent, Soonyoung was standing in the doorway of his room, staring at Jihoon. The latter was surrounded by printed documents and crumpled notes, staring at the laptop he had borrowed from Jisoo. His eyes showed gentle worry, contrasting with the boiling anxiety in his stomach. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples as though his thoughts were fighting to get out. A small sigh of anxiety left his lips, making Jihoon look up only momentarily before staring back at the screen.

 

“What are you doing?” asked Soonyoung, forcing a small smile.

“Trying to get a better idea of the compound. And the security there,” replied Jihoon, his voice far away.

 

Soonyoung closed the door of the bedroom, moving to sit on his own bed, still just watching Jihoon. Another sigh leaped out of his mouth.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” mumbled Jihoon.

“You don’t look fine Jihoonie.”

“Then you should stop looking.”

 

Jihoon’s words should have hurt, should have stung, but they didn’t. It was obvious to all that Jihoon had been on edge since Jeonghan was gone. It simply reached its peak after their meeting with Hoseok, despite Seungcheol’s attempt to untangle the bundle of nerves he became.

“Jihoon-”

“ _Soonyoung_ ,” interrupted Jihoon, eyes closed in exasperation, “Please just let me work.”

“You’ve been working since we got back Ji. Mingyu had to _carry_ you so you’d eat. Get some rest.”

“I can rest in the morning. We leave in the night anyway.”

 

Frustrated, Soonyoung got up and wordlessly closed the laptop Jihoon was so intently staring at, taking it out of his hands.

“Hey!” yelled Jihoon.

“Cut the bullshit Jihoon,” rumbled Soonyoung, sitting beside Jihoon, “Please just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” insisted Jihoon, talking through grit teeth, “Give me the laptop.”

Soonyoung held Jihoon’s arms firmly as they reached for the laptop behind him. Jihoon glared at him, and he simply held the gaze.

“No Jihoon. You’re scared-”

“Kwon Soonyoung,” warned Jihoon.

“That much I can tell just looking at you,” continued Soonyoung, unfazed. “Be honest with me: how are you _actually_ feeling.”

 

Jihoon glared right into Soonyoung for a long few seconds before sighing, head falling back. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly.

“Tired.”

“Of what?” asked Soonyoung, unsatisfied with the answer he initially got.

“Of _this_. Of finally getting what I want only for it all to go to crap. Just to lose it again.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” whispered Soonyoung.

“We all do Soonyoung,” sighed Jihoon.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

Jihoon didn’t answer, simply sighing, lying back on the bed. All his life, all he’d known was heartbreak strong enough to shatter every fiber of his being, strong enough to rob him of the very will to live. Love – love was strange. It was overwhelming, but not necessarily in the bad way. It felt like burning, but also like being completely safe. It was like feeling on top of the world yet feeling like there’s no oxygen in his lungs.

It was something he had never been ready for.

“Why do you look so upset about it?” asked Soonyoung, placing a comforting hand on his calves.

“Because Soonyoung. It’s just scary to think about. That I love someone but can lose them in a second. I never had that Soonyoung. I never had anyone like Jeonghan-hyung. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

 

A beat of silence passed where Jihoon closed his eyes, swallowing the lump growing in his throat.

“And maybe,” continued Jihoon, voice quiet, “Maybe it means Changseok was right. I fucked everything up and risked so much all because I fell in stupid love.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up Jihoonie,” consoled Soonyoung, “After all you’ve been through, after all you’ve risked helping us, you deserve love. Don’t be scared.”

Jihoon nodded silently, running his hands through his hair. He was quiet as he considered Soonyoung’s words, trying to latch onto the hope in them.

“What if he doesn’t love me back,” whispered Jihoon, sounding genuinely concerned.

Soonyoung chuckled, patting Jihoon’s leg. “When we get him back you figure that out for yourself. Now sleep.”

 

As Jihoon slithered under the heavy blanket, eyes fluttering shut, Soonyoung moved back to his own bed, a yawn marking the beginning of sleep clouding his mind.

“But you know what Ji? Call me crazy, but I’m 90% sure he loves you more than you love him.”

 

////

 

The grey van Sebong had become so used to over the years sped down the highway, traveling south – straight for Changseok’s compound. Jisoo was the one driving – the only one the rest trusted would still drive safely despite the looming anxiety. For the first time in years, the van felt claustrophobic.

The members were in complete silence, only half-aware of what was going on outside their thoughts. The atmosphere was so tense a simple tap could have shattered it to pieces. Jun’s body was restless as his mind raced, Minghao’s hand softly massaging his knee doing little to stop his leg’s shaking. Unbeknownst to himself, Soonyoung was trembling as he stared out the window, his body otherwise uncharacteristically still. Playing with his hair to soothe him, Wonwoo picked at his trousers, focusing intently on the strands of hair between his fingers. Seokmin and Seungkwan sat with shoulders touching, Seungkwan resting his head on the elder’s shoulder, both watching the scenery as it rolled past. Chan and Hansol sat comfortable silence, the elder gripping the younger’s hands as they both mentally scrolled through all the possible outcomes of the night. Seungcheol’s eyes flitted between what little he could see of Jisoo in the rearview mirror to the world outside the window. As for Jihoon, he sat silent, letting Mingyu hold on to his wrist, looking concerningly still, like a statue.

It didn’t take a lot to see that they knew how high the stakes were, how dangerous the situation was. But there was no stopping what had already begun. The fire had been lit, all they could hope was to escape before the flames swallowed them up.

 

Before any of them realized the van had stopped, Jisoo turned around, giving them a small smile.

“You guys ready?” he asked, trying his best to sound optimistic.

Seokmin suddenly snorted, smiling hard at a confused looking Seungkwan. The sight made everyone else laugh, or at the very least crack a smile.

“That was fast…” muttered Seungkwan, an abashed smile crossing his face despite himself.

“You were all practically half asleep; I don’t know what else you expected,” said Jisoo, laughing as he exited the van.

 

Seungcheol was half-way out of his seat when he froze, the rest of the members stopping in their tracks as well the second they heard it. The pained hiss, the sound of a body hitting the floor. Mingyu was the only one who’d seen it – Jisoo’s shadow collapsing the second his feet hit the ground.

Seungcheol rushed out the van, the others close at his heels, dropping to his knees to cradle Jisoo’s head.

“Jisoo!” he cried, panicked. “Jisoo wake up!”

Seokmin placed two fingers against Jisoo’s neck, stopping momentarily when he saw the small circular cut on the smooth skin.

“He’s alive hyung. Just passed out. That wasn’t a bullet,” he explained, relief flooding his voice.

 

“Then what the hell-” started Seungcheol, cut short by a flashlight being shone in the 12 members’ faces, making them squint from the sudden brightness. Despite being momentarily blinded, there was no doubting who was standing before them.

“Lower the damn light Changseok,” growled Wonwoo, hand shielding his eyes and head turned.

“Gladly,” came the disgustingly velvety voice they had all grown to despise.

“How did you know?” asked Hansol, face deadpan.

“Luck, really,” explained Changseok, overly expressive in his typical, pretentious manner. “One of my boys spotted you on your little drive over here. I wanted to welcome you myself. Well,” Changseok paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he turned to Jihoon, “Our Jihoon doesn’t quite need welcoming. He’s simply returned where he belongs.”

Jihoon was about to bite back before Minghao sharply inhaled, brimming with irritation and frustration.

“Just tell us what the hell you want,” he snarled, the grip on the knife in his sleeve deadly tight.

“You can all either come along quietly like good little boys-”

“Or?” challenged Seungkwan.

“Or, I can tell my guys with the big boy guns that they can start to play.”

 

Not even a beat of silence had passed before floodlights drenched the 12 boys in blinding brightness. They flinched, heads instinctively angling down to avoid the glare.

“Too long.”

 

It was a loud bang, then utter silence.

 

////

 

Seungcheol was the first to wake. Ignoring the throbbing in his head and neck, he quickly surveyed the room. Small and bare – just as expected, only filled by the bodies of the other members.

“Hey,” said Seungcheol in a soft tone. “Kids wake up.”

 

He went around the room member by member, almost like a roll call, shaking them awake, not stopping until their eyelids fluttered open. When he got around to Jisoo, he checked on the cut in his neck, worry sitting thick in his stomach.

“I’m fine Cheollie,” mumbled Jisoo, groaning as he sat up. “Everyone has the cut now. It’s from whatever they shot us with.”

 

Looking around the room, Seungcheol’s heart stopped. He counted over the members thrice before arriving at the same conclusion each time.

“Chan,” he whispered, making everyone turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. “Where’s Chan?”

 

 

Chan, in fact, was right in the next room, hands tied painfully behind the back of the uncomfortable chair he was in. In one corner, he could see Changseok smiling sickly as another man, completely masked, pulled on his hair so hard it brought tears to his eyes.

“Let’s play a game son, shall we?” started Changseok, the sadistic smile still on his face. “Let’s play ‘how long will it take for your precious hyung to crack’. Sound fun?”

 

 

 

There was a tiny, barred window in the room Sebong were kept. Hansol was the first to notice this as well as the guard standing outside their room. He ran to the window like a hurricane touching down on land.

“Hey!” he shouted, voice dripping in pure rage. “Where the hell is Chan? Where the _hell_ is he?”

The guard simply smiled, amused. Hansol reached forward, ready to try and grab the guard’s neck. Just as his arm moved, Seungkwan held it still. Hansol spun around, murder in his eyes, only to be met with Seungkwan placing a finger to his lips.

From the wall to their left, a small sound bled through the cracks like blood out of a papercut. It was pained. Not quite a whimper, but not quite a scream. More like a scream being bitten back like it was being held prisoner behind bars of teeth.

 

 

 

“Come on son. You can scream louder than that, can’t you?” cooed Changseok.

Sweat already drenching his face, which turned a ghostly shade of white, Chan grit his teeth and hissed. His hair fell into his eyes in thick clumps, and he was unable to push it away with his hands tied behind his back. He refused to scream, refused to give Changseok the sick satisfaction he wanted, refused to put any single one of his hyungs in danger.

 

His torturer was expressionless, at least as much as he could tell with the mask covering his face. His eyes remained empty – two dark holes that absorbed any and all light – staring blackly at his victim, Chan’s face covered in blood, sweat, and drying tears. Awaiting instructions, he circled Chan’s chair, like a predator hunting his prey.

“Disappointing,” pouted Changseok, almost sounding remorseful. “Again.”

 

The masked man picked up the brand, starting again.

 

 

 

“They’re hurting him,” whispered Hansol, turning back to the guard. “Tell them to stop you sick fucker!”

Sebong didn’t know what was harder to listen to: the bit back screams or the short bouts of silence.

“They won’t stop until a substitute is offered,” explained the guard, looking bored, “Those are my orders.”

“Fine!” shouted Hansol, “Then let m-”

 

“Hansol, no,” said Jisoo, voice careful and soft, holding tight onto Hansol’s shoulders.

“Hyung, they’re hurting Chan!”

“I know”

“I’m trying to make them stop, hyung let me _go_!”

“It’s not that simple Hansollie. You taking Chan’s place will just mean another person getting hurt. It’s not gonna get us any closer to finding Jeonghan. The cycle will continue until we’re all dead.”

“But hyung,” started Hansol, voice heartbroken and tears in his eyes, “They’re _hurting_ him.”

 

Mind made up, marching straight past Hansol and Jisoo, Jihoon grabbed the bars of the window.

“Hey!” he called at the guard. “Take me instead. I’ll be the substitute.”

“Jihoon, no,” warned Jun after a moment of stunned silence.

“Jun trust me,” said Jihoon, voice certain.

“What, do you have a plan?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your plan then?” asked Wonwoo, Jihoon saying nothing in response, simply staring back at Wonwoo. “Jihoon there _has_ to be a plan.”

“Hyung,” whispered Mingyu, “You’re not actually going to…”

“Sacrifice myself for Chan? Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” said Seungcheol. Everyone was becoming increasingly panicked.

“I _know_ Changseok,” insisted Jihoon, “I _know_ he’s in that room right now smiling his head off watching Chan get hurt like it’s some sick movie. I lived with him since I was 18, I know how he works. _Please_ just trust me.”

 

Sebong were about to argue further, not knowing what else to do but _refusing_ the situation to come to this, when Changseok entered the room, pushing a dizzy, disoriented Chan in. Luckily, he was propelled right into Minghao’s arms, who simply held him as he tried to calm his panicked breathing.

He didn’t look okay by any means, his side bleeding heavily and neck and arms covered in burns. Sebong’s hearts clenched.

 

“Well, who’s next?” asked Changseok, the smile still plastered on his face.

“Drop it. Drop the act,” scowled Jihoon, anger and disgust flowing through his veins at the mere sight of the man.

“Ah, Jihoon. It’s about time we had some time to ourselves.”

 

“Hyung,” came Chan’s thick, weak, trembling voice, “No…”

“Channie, don’t worry,” replied Jihoon, voice softening.

 

Jihoon was all but thrown into the other room, barely managing to catch himself before he fell to the ground. He didn’t stop to take a look at the room, spinning back around to face Changseok.

“Where the hell is Jeonghan-hyung?”

 

Changseok gave Jihoon a look of cruel confusion, cocking his head to the side and pouting. It was almost cute was the man not a callous sadist.

“I thought you’d recognize him Jihoon. Maybe you aren’t as close as I thought.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” growled Jihoon.

“Patient Zero,” started Changseok, making Jihoon turn to acknowledge the other man in the room. “Take off your mask. You won’t be needing it.”

 

As the man tossed away the blood-stained mask, the sight underneath made Jihoon go frigid, losing all breath in his body. He felt as though his lungs had forgotten how to help him breathe, like his heart had forgotten how to beat.

 

“Haven’t you expected this?” teased Changseok. “I thought you knew.”

The pieces connected in Jihoon’s mind, tears springing to his eyes despite him as he stared. The blank face staring back at him twisted into an empty, cold smile.

 

“Hello, Jihoon.”

The voice was so much like home but had somehow become so alien at the same time.

 

“Jeonghan…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second half of this chapter was hell to write cuz i had no idea how to figure it out  
> also half of my logic was wanting a lil more leader line interaction so yeah


	10. Don't Leave Me, You're My Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry  
> also i realized halfway through writing this that it was giving me Winter Soldier vibes which is all the more reason to apologize for the pain i am about to inflict on you  
> also(x2) i barely proofread this so expect some mistakes

“Jeonghan…” whispered Jihoon again. It was like he was a record player, stuck to repeat the same word over and over again until he was reprogrammed.

But it wasn’t Jeonghan, not quite. Jihoon was _almost_ fooled; Jeonghan’s pink lips, strong jawline, high cheekbones, mesmerizing glow, they were the same as always. But his eyes, they tod all. Their softness, the inviting twinkling that was so characteristically Jeonghan, they were gone. Instead, they were emotionless black holes: dark and cold as the depths of the ocean.

 

“This is hardly the warm welcome I thought you’d want to give him, boy,” said Changseok mockingly. “He’s undergone a lot to make sure he’s perfect for you.”

“That’s not Jeonghan,” replied Jihoon, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“That hurts Jihoonie,” whined Jeonghan emotionlessly, despite the mocking pout of his face.

_‘It really looks like Jeonghan,’_ thought Jihoon, _‘But those eyes…’_

“You gave him the drug,” muttered Jihoon before tearing his eyes away from Jeonghan to look at Changseok. “What the hell does it do?”

“I’ll let you figure that out _Jihoonie_ ,” mocked Changseok.

“What did you do to him?” insisted Jihoon, unsatisfied.

Changseok simply smiled a horrible, cold smile. “I’ll leave you two alone. You have a lot to talk about.”

 

Once the door slammed shut, Jihoon quickly surveyed the room, which was largely empty save a beat up wooden cabinet in the corner, in front of which lay three electric branding irons. The sight of them made Jihoon’s stomach twist and turn like the branches of an old tree. There was a chair dead in the middle of the room, right underneath a single lamp hanging over it like the sword of Damocles. The wall opposite the door was a large, dance-studio type mirror. Jihoon scoffed at the sight; he wasn’t stupid.

“That’s a two-way mirror, isn’t it?” asked Jihoon.

Jeonghan gave no response. He simply stared back with blank eyes. It was like the question didn’t even register; facial muscles not so much as twitching, eyes simply blinking once, body frozen.

 

Jihoon’s shoulders slumped as he whispered, “Just tell me what they did to you, please.”

Jeonghan seemed to come to life at that moment, eyes appearing to absorb shadows and mouth twisting into a cruel smile.

“They made me better.”

The sentence sent a chill down Jihoon’s spine, and for the first time since meeting him, he felt small under Jeonghan’s gaze.

“No, they didn’t,” responded Jihoon. His voice couldn’t go above a whisper, his jaw so tense it could shatter to pieces right there and then.

“Now why do you say that _Hoonie_?” asked Jeonghan, taking one step closer to Jihoon, looking like a wolf pushing its prey into a corner. The nickname that had been given to him affectionately and lovingly now sounded like poison, as though it were dipped in a strange potion of malic, mocking, and numbness.

“Because you’re not Jeonghan,” replied Jihoon as his back came flush with the wall.

 

For the first time in weeks, he felt the pain of his scars again.

 

Slowly, almost tenderly, Jeonghan raised his hand to play with a lock of Jihoon’s deep red hair before pressing his hand against the wall beside his head. Jihoon refused to look down, still searching for the smallest possible piece of the man he loved in those dark, shadowy eyes.

“Oh, but I am,” whispered Jeonghan. He leaned in very close to Jihoon, the gap between them a mere few centimeters. “I’m the same Jeonghan you remember _Hoonie_. Just better, stronger, smarter.”

“How?” Jihoon knew that trying to get what he wanted directly would get no response, Jeonghan had become like a computer: only programmed to respond to certain words and questions, avoiding others. “How did you become _better_?”

“Simple. Two seconds of pain, then complete and utter clarity. You have your goal in sight and know _exactly_ how to reach it, like it’s programmed into your DNA. You realize that anything else is a distraction that must be eliminated.”

“Eliminated? What-”

“Don’t play dumb Jihoonie,” warned Jeonghan, voice dropping an octave.

“Is that why you hurt Chan?” Jihoon hated the _idea_ of Jeonghan inflicting any sort of pain on him or any of the members. But who else could have done it? Who else could Changseok have exploited?

Jeonghan shrugged, face remaining perfectly still like alabaster. “He was a distraction. A particularly big one. He was hardly the first. And at least in his case, he got to walk away.”

“Don’t you feel remorse?” whispered Jihoon. “Don’t you care that you hurt our friend?”

“No.”

“So if you hurt me-”

“When did I ever say I was going to hurt you, _Hoonie_?” cooed Jeonghan, cupping Jihoon’s cheek, his thumb stroking soft skin. It was almost enough to fool Jihoon that it was all an act, that the drug hadn’t actually done anything, that it was another failed trial. But no one could fake the emptiness in those eyes.

“But _if_ you did,” continued Jihoon, holding Jeonghan’s wrist, removing his hand from his cheek, “The same would go for me?”

Jeonghan cracked a smile, laughing lightly. “Of course. Hate to break your cute little heart Jihoonie, but I don’t believe I ever mentioned to you that I cared about you. I don’t know who gave you that idea, but they’re a fool.”

 

In the short silence that followed, Jihoon could hear a part of his heart breaking. He wanted to cry, to break down, to scream, but he couldn’t, just _couldn’t_ do that. Not in front of _this_ Jeonghan.

“Then you’re the fool hyung.”

 

**_“Eliminate.”_ **

 

The voice came suddenly, echoing through Jeonghan’s skull. He was confused: just a second ago he was told not to hurt the boy, that other things were in store for him. Why did the order suddenly change? And why did he not want to do it?

Aggression suddenly flooded Jeonghan’s body with a terrifying power. He shoved Jihoon further against the wall to push himself away, snarling as he did so. He tried to calm himself down, only for the pressure to build, making him feel like his entire being was being ripped apart from the inside out. He crouched down, gripping his hair in his hands, tears pricking at his eyes as his entire body tensed up. There was no knowing why but eliminating Jihoon just felt _wrong_.

 

**_“Patient Zero, do your damn job.”_ **

 

Another tremor of unadulterated pain attacked Jeonghan’s body, making him curl over himself even more. All he wanted was to understand _why_. _Why_ did Jihoon need to be eliminated? _Why_ was his reaction towards the order so negative? _Why_ did the look on Jihoon’s face break his heart?

 

**_“_ Patient Zero, _”_** came the voice again, more aggravated. **_“Stop resisting. Your desires are irrelevant. Do as I say.”_**

 

Jihoon froze, arm outstretched, just a few feet away from Jeonghan. In a few seconds, he went from mewling in pain, crouched in a small ball, to standing up fully straight as though nothing had happened. He turned to face Jihoon, face momentarily completely blank before it began shifting, slowly and eerily. His lips curled up into a grin, but not nicely. The temperature of the room fell. It was sort of Cheshire grin, the kind that looked more like he wanted to rip Jihoon to shreds. It was a grin that directly contrasted the faint redness of Jeonghan’s eyes and the slight streaks of tears on his cheeks. It was a grin that made Jihoon wish he had the option of escape.

Jeonghan laughed soullessly, cruelly. “Are you afraid Jihoonie?”

Jihoon didn’t respond, frozen completely still in his spot.

“You should be.”

 

Jihoon hadn’t even opened his mouth before he heard a deadly _swoosh_ right by his ear. He didn’t have to turn to see what it was: the metallic clang to the floor was characteristic enough. A small drop of blood fell onto Jihoon’s shoulder. The blade had nicked his ear, just enough for blood to steadily flow out the wound like a small, gentle, crimson stream.

“Hmmm,” pouted Jeonghan, cocking his head to the side, starting to corner Jihoon once again. He was playing with the blade of another knife that had been concealed in his sleeve. “Don’t you want to pick that up Jihoonie? We want a fair fight, don’t we?”

“I’m not going to fight you,” responded Jihoon. Within seconds, the two were back in their previous position: Jihoon cornered against the cold concrete, Jeonghan towering over him, consuming his whole line of vision. But this time, the gentleness was gone. Jeonghan grabbed a fistful of Jihoon’s hair and pulled, hard. Instinctively squeezing his eyes shut to trap the pricking tears, Jihoon shrieked from behind grit teeth.

“Shhh,” cooed Jeonghan, stroking Jihoon’s cheek with the blade. Jihoon’s body went into autopilot mode, shooting his right leg out to meet Jeonghan’s shin. The surprise made him flinch, the blade slicing into soft skin, but Jihoon didn’t care. He pushed himself out of the corner, moving to the exact opposite side from Jeonghan, right where the cabinet and branding irons were.

“I thought you didn’t want to fight, _Jihoonie_.” There was a smirk on Jeonghan’s face, but his eyes were murderous. “Now get out of the way.”

“Or what, you’ll kill me too?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer, not with words at least. His body froze at the question, as though it were buffering. His eyes narrowed further, the fire in them burning hotter and hotter.

 

Jihoon barely dodged the blade that came flying at him on a path straight towards his chest. He tripped over one of the brands, knees painfully colliding with the ground. Within less than a second, Jeonghan pounced. Flinging Jihoon onto his back, Jeonghan straddled his torso to keep him still. With thighs squeezing his ribcage so tightly, Jihoon swore he felt something crack.

“I lost my knife,” muttered Jeonghan, voice completely flat. Jihoon thought about how under different circumstances, the situation could have been altered to be humorous. But he was quickly brought back to reality when the sickening sound of knuckles colliding with bone echoes through the room, his cheekbone stinging from the impact. He was barely able to recover before another blow hit his jaw, another smashing his collarbone, another one to the side of his head sending his mind spinning. The unnerving thing was that Jeonghan’s face never shifted throughout – it simply remained numb and emotionless, like he wasn’t even there. Though it was entirely inappropriate considering his current predicament, that look broke Jihoon’s heart; because he knew that Jeonghan was _somewhere_ in there, almost irretrievably lost, begging to break free before that happened.

“I’m sorry I turned you into this,” whispered Jihoon before another punch was set to his ribcage, definitely cracking a couple of ribs, “I’m sorry I put you through this. I’m sorry I could never give back to you what you gave to me. I’m just so, so fucking sorry.”

 

Face contorting into a pained cry, Jeonghan pushed himself up and off Jihoon, forcing all the air out of the latter’s lungs. He fell to his knees a few feet away from Jihoon, pulling at his hair, screaming as his body shook. Jihoon could hear him whimpering in between screams, sounding so hurt, so broken, so tired.

“I-I don’t wanna do this,” he mewled. “Stop, please, I don’t want to. I can’t, I don’t want to, I wo-”

Jeonghan was cut off as another bout of screams ripped through him.

 

Jihoon moved on instinct, grabbing Jeonghan’s cheeks to look directly into his eyes. It was only momentary, but Jihoon saw it: the softness, the light, _Jeonghan_. He was there, but only for a split second. For as soon as his guard was down, the switch was flicked once again, and Jihoon’s head smacked hard against the ground as those eyes turned pitch black again. Jeonghan was snarling, the sound almost animalistic as he pinned Jihoon’s arms above his head; grasp so tight Jihoon felt as though his wrists would snap at any moment

“Jeonghan-hyung I know you’re in there,” Jihoon didn’t know when he’d started, but he was crying, his words coming out small and shaky. “Hannie _please._ ”

“What?” screamed Jeonghan, previously programmed composure gone as the internal battle waged on inside of him.

“Please come back.”

“I’m tr-NO! Why are you making this impossible?” spat Jeonghan. “We weren’t ever together!”

“Still,” sobbed Jihoon, “I just- _please_. Hannie don’t leave me.”

“Shut up!”

“I can’t lose you, Hannie. Please come back.”

“I said shut up!”

 

Letting go of his wrists, Jeonghan wrapped his slender fingers around Jihoon’s neck. But the hold wasn’t strong enough. There was enough pressure that it hurt, but Jihoon could still breathe, albeit with extreme difficulty.

“I love you,” Jihoon managed to choke out.

 “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” said Jeonghan through grit teeth.

“I still love you,” repeated Jihoon.

“Stop it!”

“And I know that this is the worst timing, but I’ve put off telling you for so fucking long, and if this is the last time I see you, I need you to know.”

 

There was a short pause in which it felt as though the entire world froze, waiting with baited breath.

“I loved you,” said Jeonghan under his breath. “I did.”

 

Jeonghan collapsed beside Jihoon, his face twisted into a pale grimace, nails clawing at the ground and muscles visibly tensing as tremors and shocks tormented his body. Jihoon sat up but could only watch as the scream tore through Jeonghan like a shard of glass. It was desperate, terrified, human.

Then he went quiet, muscles going completely slack, back heaving up and down as he gasped for breath. From the opposite side of the mirror, Jihoon heard something crash against a wall, and if he really tried, he could hear yelling. That was when he scrambled towards Jeonghan. Because at that moment, he knew it was over. At that moment, he knew it was time to get the hell out of there. At that moment, he knew Jeonghan made it.

 

“Hannie,” called Jihoon softly, trying to pull Jeonghan up into a seated position. “Are you okay?”

“Jihoonie?” Jeonghan was finally back, his beautiful, soft, angelic voice sounding like the sweetest of music to Jihoon’s ears. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as they focused on Jihoon, relief, concern, and fear painting his face. “Oh my god Jihoon!”

Jeonghan pulled Jihoon to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Though Jihoon knew they had to get their friends out and get out and do it _fast_ , he couldn’t help but stay in the embrace for just a little bit. His heart was pounding, tears of relief spilling from his closed eyes.

“I missed you,” he whispered into Jeonghan’s chest.

Jeonghan pulled Jihoon away, looking over every inch of him with mortified eyes. “I hurt you…”

 

Ignoring the pain from his broken clavicle, Jihoon shook his head, smiling softly as he started closing the distance between them. When their lips met, the world fell away. It was soft and comforting in ways words could never be. Jeonghan brought his hand up to rest below Jihoon’s ear, thumb caressing his cheek, the other hand moving to rest on the back of his head. Moving even closer, Jihoon closed any distance between them until he could feel Jeonghan’s heart beating against his chest.

 

“I really  _did_ hurt you,” said Jeonghan sadly, staring at the droplets of blood on his fingers from the wound on the back of Jihoon’s head.

“No, you didn’t,” insisted Jihoon, placing another kiss on the soft lips. “ _They_ did.”

“I love you,” said Jeonghan, smiling softly, voice dripping in fondness and genuineness. “Thank you for coming back for me”

“I love you too Hannie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m great, actually.”

“I’d forgotten what a bad liar you are,” snorted Jihoon

“Where are the others?”

“In a room close by, unless they moved them. So, what’s our plan?”

“I have no fucking idea,” responded Jeonghan. But there was twinkling in Jeonghan’s eyes, a twinkling that said he knew _exactly_ what he was going to do, and there wasn’t enough time for Jihoon to think of something to stop him.

 

“Oh God help us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean I FIXED IT AT THE END SO I'M FORGIVEN RIGHT??
> 
> if you follow me on twitter (@pearblossom_twt) you've seen how much i died trying to write this chapter. both because i got writer's block AND because I CRIED LIKE A MILLION TIMES WRITING THIS SO WHATEVER PAIN YOU JUST ENDURED I ENDURED AS WELL  
> on the bright side, it can't get much more heartbreaking than this, right? (i mean i don't quite have the next chapter fully figured out yet so we'll see if my mind can be any more evil)
> 
> thank you for reading! <333


	11. I Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah no i lied and must apologize for this chapter too

Wordlessly, and with the same smirk on his face, Jeonghan got to his feet and bolted straight for the door before Jihoon could even begin to react. Hearing the next room’s door all but crash open, Jihoon cursed under his breath. Stumbling out the door slightly exasperated (because as much as he loves him, his boyfriend is an _idiot_ ), Jihoon thanked every and any higher power that the guard that was previously there had disappeared, likely having been called by Changseok.

“Hyung,” hissed Jihoon, leaning against the doorway slightly winded after scrambling after Jeonghan. “Your plan sucks. Haven’t you seen a single horror movie?”

 

Though it was faint, the irritation was wiped from Jihoon’s face as he watched Jeonghan gently push past Jisoo and Mingyu, making a b-line for Chan, pulling the youngest to his chest.

“I’ve got you Channie. It’s okay now and I’m sorry,” whispered Jeonghan into Chan’s hair.

Jihoon’s heart clenched as the realization dawned on him: even though the drug had worn off, Jeonghan remembered _everything_ he did while under its influence.

 

“Are you okay?” asked a voice beside him. Jihoon turned to find Seungcheol, eyes darting between his bruising clavicle and Jeonghan, who was checking over every inch of Chan.

“I’m fine,” replied Jihoon, unsure whether he was being truthful. “We both are.”

“Where was Jeonghan. How the hell did you get him back?”

“Changseok gave him the drug.”

That was all that was needed for Seungcheol’s eyes to widen in realization.

 

“How did you even get in here?” asked Minghao, clearly confused and overwhelmed.

Jeonghan held up a small ring of keys, a small, smug smile on his face. “It’s a good thing Changseok lacks a basic understanding of the importance of contingency plans.”

 

“Guys we’re running out of time,” called Mingyu from the doorway, interrupting the dry chuckles and barely starting chorus of ‘what happened’ and ‘are you okay’. “I hear footsteps.”

He was right. As the room fell silent, the faint sound of heels hitting concrete was clear as day. Each footfall was chaotically spaced from the last, lacking in any sort of rhythm. And yet, Mingyu could ascertain that whoever was approaching was likely heavily armed.

 

“Who told you guys about this place?” asked Jeonghan, putting on what Seokmin had once jokingly called his ‘business voice’.

“Yoongi-hyung and Jimin-hyung’s friend,” responded Seokmin, “He works for Changseok.”

“Good,” nodded Jeonghan, backing towards the door and cocking his head towards it. “Let me deal with him. Alone.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?” spluttered Seungcheol. “We _literally_ just got you back!”

“Seungcheol, Mingyu’s right, we’re running out of time and this is the only plan we can come up with. _Please_ just trust me.”

“It’s not a plan. It’s you walking into a death trap of worse with zero guidance or backup.”

“Cheol, no matter what we do we won’t have guidance or backup. This isn’t a situation where you can be in control.”

Seungcheol pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “I am begging you, Jeonghan, don’t do this. This is what I was trying to avoid! All of this!”

“What are you planning to say to him?” asked Jisoo, interrupting Seungcheol and barely managing to speak calmly.

“I’m gonna do what I’m good at,” shrugged Jeonghan, “Making deals.”

“What kind of deal?”

“A deal that will make sure you all get out of here safe. And maybe I can get something else out of it we can use,” chuckled Jeonghan emptily.

“If this deal even suggests you giving up your life or you going through all _that_ again cancel it right now,” ordered Seungcheol, deadly serious.

“Wasn’t thinking of it. Don’t worry Cheol, if I die I’m totally haunting you,” winked Jeonghan.

“Not funny Jeonghan,” muttered Seungcheol despite the small smile on his face. Jeonghan took that as approval and turned on his heel to run out the door. Before he was out of the room, Jihoon grabbed his arm.

 

“You know most people would call you an idiot for doing this?”

“Well what would _you_ call me?” challenged Jeonghan.

Jihoon sighed. “My idiot whose doing this. Be safe.”

Jeonghan nodded and within a split second was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

 

“What the hell happened to the two of you?” asked Wonwoo nervously.

“Long story,” sighed Jihoon before recounting what he had just endured to the group.

 

////

 

Jeonghan had barely taken a few steps before Changseok rounded the corner of the hallway, four armed guards at his heels. As soon as they laid eyes on him, it was a split second before all the guns were pointed at him: cocked and ready to kill.

“Stop,” said Jeonghan, softly and carefully, hands up to show all he wanted to do was talk.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t gun you down right here and now.” Changseok’s composure, all that was left was frenzy and fury.

“Because even if you _do_ kill us it won’t make things better for you. There are enough people who know the truth about you to take you down anyway. From the inside at that.”

“The fuck-”

“You may have made up the whole source story, but it’s escaped you that someone from your side has been feeding us information. So even if you kill us, it won’t help you.”

“Who the fuck is it?” demanded Changseok, drawing and cocking his own gun. “Tell me _now_.”

“I don’t know,” replied Jeonghan calmly. “And even if I did, if they were smart enough to evade you for this long they’d have started laying low. Even you know that Changseok.”

 

“What do you want?” growled Changseok.

“I want this stupid, needless war to stop.”

“You forget, Yoon Jeonghan, that you’re the ones who started it. None of this would have happened if you would have minded your own business.”

“That’s arguable. _You_ were the one lying to us despite promising to be an honest, trustworthy advisor. Thus far, all our moves have been defensive.”

“Stealing my property is defensive?”

Jeonghan bristled yet fought his anger down. “Firstly, Jihoon isn’t ‘property’. Second, he was our first source of information. We gave him protection to repay him for the risk he took.”

“Don’t be so naïve Jeonghan. Considering your line of work, you should know better than anyone that it takes two to start a war.”

“I disagree. The way I see it, it takes two to propagate a war. A war seldom breaks out until one of the sides makes the first attack.”

“Well, let’s agree to disagree in that regard.”

 

Jeonghan sighed, carding his hands through his hair. “Changseok, you want power, control. It doesn’t take a detective to see that. You just want to do whatever the hell you want without consequence.”

“It’s one of the few things I share with politicians.”

Jeonghan bit back a retort, forcing himself to stick to his plan, though it was an inexpert one. “I can figure out a way to give that you. I’ll figure it out such that the contradictions with our agenda and morals are minimal. All I ask is that you let my members go.”

“And within a few days, I’ll find myself deported or thrown in jail. Do not underestimate me, boy, I’m not as stupid as you’d like to believe.”

“Fine. I’ll stay here then. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go home.”

“I’ve seen how resourceful and efficient your group is. Even with your absence, I’ll end up with the same fate.”

Resisting the urge to huff in frustration, Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest in that case.”

“Can you really deliver a compromise that complicated?”

“It will take time and a hell of a lot of resources, but I can do it. I’ll figure out a way.”

“And it will require me and my colleagues to disengage all activities?”

Jeonghan took a minute to think, to run through the different possibilities, gnawing on his lower lip as he did so. “Perhaps not all, but most. At least for a little while. I’ll need to shuffle them around to find a way to put the compromise in place effectively. That’ll be hard to do with continuous updates and changes coming at me from all different directions.”

“And all this in return for your members’ safety?”

“They’re my family,” replied Jeonghan, voice confident and unwavering. “Most of them don’t have much to go back to. Their safety is all I want.”

 

A grin spread over Changseok’s face, wide and open, putting his white teeth on full display. In that moment, Jeonghan knew that whatever he was going to offer, he wouldn’t like it. After all, Changseok was someone who enjoyed whatever torment he could inflict on others.

“There is one possibility I can present to you. You won’t like it.”

As Changseok presented his suggestion as to how the deal would work out, Jeonghan could only stare. His brain could formulate no other thoughts other than the acknowledgment of his shock. His hands had been clenched around the shortest rope of hope for so long, and now he was being forced to let go, to feel the stinging of his palms. Now, his hands curled around empty air, his nails digging into his skin to stop him from breaking right then and there.

 

“So,” started Changseok after finishing his explanation, “Do you like it?”

“Of course I fucking don’t,” replied Jeonghan through grit teeth, voice thin and tense.

“Unless you can come up with something better in the next few minutes, I’m afraid this is the only option you have.”

Jeonghan exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as he ran his hands over his face. He forced himself to look back at Changseok, though he couldn’t stand to look at that smug face a minute longer.

“You promise me their safety if I go through with this?” he asked, voice small and desperate.

“No harm will come to them. As long as you deliver, they will be safe.”

“Okay. Fine. Let me talk to them first.”

 

The door to the room opened slowly and quietly, and yet since everyone had been watching it like a hawk, Jeonghan was immediately met with curious, worried eyes. Seungkwan grabbed Jeonghan’s shoulders, ready to fire a barrage of questions until he saw Jeonghan’s tense, miserable expression. He froze.

“Hyung, what happened?”

Forcing a smile, Jeonghan held onto Seungkwan’s hands softly as he spoke, the words coming out quiet and choked. “I’m so proud of all of you. You know that, right?”

“Jeonghan-hyung, what did you do?” insisted Seungkwan.

“I promised I wouldn’t let any of you get hurt and I intend to keep that promise.” Jeonghan started to pull himself out of Seungkwan’s hold, backing towards the door like a piece of metal to a magnet.

“Why are you leaving hyung?” asked Jun, concerned.

“I gave myself over.”

 

The silence that followed was not unlike that which follows before a falling glass shatters everywhere. Everything froze for a moment, as though paralyzed by poison. It was the brief moment before the explosion ensued.

 

“YOU DID WHAT?!” roared Seungcheol, frantic and panicked. “You said you’d figure it out!”

“Cheollie, there wasn’t any other way,” replied Jeonghan, eyes closed to trap the accumulating tears. “I’ll be safe and so will you.”

“What was the deal you made hyung?” asked Wonwoo

Jeonghan gave another small smile before answering. “I’m gonna figure out a compromise for him in exchange for your safety.”

“No, there’s more than that,” asserted Seungcheol, gripping onto Jeonghan’s wrist harder than he realized or intended to. “What aren’t you telling us.”

“You just need to let me go and let me do this,” insisted Jeonghan, avoiding the question.

“We’re not losing you again!” It was one of the few times Jisoo raised his voice. He was heartbroken, pure panic flooding his system.

“I’ll figure everything out and will be back before you know it. I’ll find you, okay? Just trust me, please. You’ll all be safe and I’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

“Hannie please, don’t do this,” begged Jihoon, his voice small.

“It’s our only option Jihoonie. And we’ll all be okay in the end. I’ll just be away for a little while, like a business trip.” Jeonghan chuckled at his own analogy, the laugh empty and bitter.

“But I can’t lose you again,” pleaded Jihoon, voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought you loved me.”

Jeonghan’s heart broke, and a single tear streaked his cheek despite his efforts to keep them locked up. He cupped Jihoon’s cheek tenderly, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“I do baby, but this is the only way I can _guarantee_ that you’ll be okay. That all of you will be okay. I promise, I’ll figure something out.”

He gave Jihoon a quick, innocent, bittersweet kiss, placing another one on his forehead before facing the rest of the group, cuddling Jihoon into his side.

 

“You all trust me, right? And I’ve never backed away from a promise I made any of you, right?”

Albeit silently, everyone agreed, nodding sadly and heavily.

“Then I need you to believe me when I say that I will be back, okay? Take care of each other and try not to worry. Stay in this room until someone tells you otherwise. No one will hurt you.”

 

Squeezing Jihoon against him one last time, Jeonghan made his way to leave the room, pausing with his hand on the door handle.

“I’ll find you soon. I’ll figure everything out, okay?”

 

“Make us one last promise,” started a tearful Jisoo. “That you’ll be safe.”

Jeonghan smiled as two more tears stained his cheeks. His voice was close to a whisper, the tears almost preventing his from any speech at all, and yet he spoke anyway. “I promise. I’ll be okay.”

 

And just like that, Jeonghan disappeared.

 

////

 

Seokmin and Jihoon were on the couch, both doing their own work, when the knock sounded. Jihoon simply looked at Seokmin for a brief moment, before returning to his work.

“Should I get it or are you just saving whatever you’ve done so far?” asked Seokmin, for fun than anything else. He knew the answer.

“Nah, you can get it.”

 

Seokmin chuckled, ruffling Jihoon’s hair as he walked past to get the door. Behind it was two men. Something about them was familiar for a moment, but Seokmin would be lying if he said he knew who they were.

“Hi,” he greeted awkwardly.

“Hi Seokmin. I take the fact that you’re alive as a sign that you got Jeonghan back,” said the man with the silver hair cheerily.

“Do I know you? How do you know my name?”

 

Both men’s faces faltered as they glanced at each other confused and concerned.

“Seokmin, it’s us. Jimin and Yoongi.”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Seokmin, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Is Seungcheol here?” asked Yoongi, tone careful and guarded. “Can we talk to him?”

“Sure,” replied Seokmin before turning to call out for Seungcheol. “Are you friends of his?”

“Well, we’ll see,” said Jimin.

 

“Hello,” came Seungcheol from behind Seokmin. “What’s up?”

“Did you guys get Jeonghan back? You disappeared for a few days,” said Yoongi, going straight to the point.

Seungcheol looked confused. “I think you have the wrong place. We don’t know anyone named Jeonghan.”

Jimin and Yoongi looked at each other, shock and confusion painting their faces. Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but Jimin stopped him, shaking his head.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Seungcheol, polite but guarded.

“No, we must have made a mistake,” responded Jimin tensely, “We’re sorry for wasting your time.”

“If it still means anything,” offered Yoongi, “Hoseok is safe.”

 

The two walked off briskly, muttering something about having to talk to Hoseok. Seungcheol closed the door behind them, looking back up at Seokmin, dumbfounded.

“The hell was that all about,” asked Jihoon, stretching in his seat.

“No idea,” replied Seungcheol.

“Do you know someone named Jeonghan?” asked Seokmin.

“Don’t think so,” replied Jihoon.

 

And yet, when Seokmin muttered the name, Jihoon’s heart clenched.

_‘I’ve been drinking too much coffee,’_ was all he thought of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it helps, know that i have shed a LOT of tears writing this


	12. Muffled Affections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this actually wasn't as short of a chapter as i thought it'd be i'm impressed !!  
> i call this: the bittersweet filler chapter

_Jihoon was paralyzed as the ghost materialized before him. He had been reading peacefully, his small frame perched on the window’s ledge like a cat. Though it was late morning, the world suddenly went pitch black. It was only momentary though, as though a child were playing with the world’s light switch. But when the light returned, it was… artificial. It looked like technicolor on an old television. Everything was brighter than it should have been; the blue of the sky and green of the bushes radiant hues that burned Jihoon’s eyes. Everything looked_ very _right – or rather very fake._

_Jihoon was alerted to the presence of the ghost when he heard the strange breathing. It had no rhythm, coming in short exhales and stutters before disappearing altogether, but only for a few seconds. He knew the eerie figure before him was a beautiful apparition despite not being able to make out its blurred features; in his brain, it was an instinct strong as fact. And though that same instinct told him to run, Jihoon remained frozen in his perch, eyes transfixed on the shadowy figure._

_The figure beckoned with fading, shadowy, almost skeletal fingers; and as though on a conveyor belt, Jihoon found himself moving towards him. His steps were small, tentative, yet unstoppable._

_The fear and alarm left his mind and he began to think about new things. ‘I want to stay here. With him.’ The thought quickly became strong desire and Jihoon’s heart burned with an intensity to make it possible._

 

_It hurt. But it was the sweetest kind of pain._

 

_As quickly as it had appeared, the ghost vanished, leaving not so much as a shadow. Paranoia flooded Jihoon’s system as he searched frantically._

_“Where did you go?” whispered Jihoon into the frigid air. He repeated it like a mantra until he realized he started shouting._

_“Please! Come back! Don’t leave me J-”_

 

A painful sting on the side of his head startled Jihoon out of his dreadful nightmare. He was seated on the window’s ledge, curled in a ball with wet cheeks and body bathed in a cold sweat. The blanket that must have been around his shoulders now lay twisted on the floor, likely because he had been thrashing in his sleep. His heart was pounding against his ribs. His body was shaking. The remnants of the nightmare still clung to his mind, haunting him.

He couldn’t see anything, the room momentarily appearing endlessly dark. Then, he felt gentle hands on his shoulders, and a face came into view.

 

“Hey, it’s me,” whispered Jun, voice soft and eyes concerned. “You okay?”

Jihoon sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “I’m okay. What time is it?”

“3 am,” replied Jun. “I woke up because you started screaming.”

“Sorry. Go back to sleep now.”

“Nah. M’gonna have to be up early today anyway. Do you wanna go back to sleep or do you wanna keep me company?” Jun’s voice was still a little thick with sleep, but that didn’t stop him from accentuating the offer with a wink.

“Not going back to sleep,” said Jihoon, shaking his head violently. The nightmare had left his nerves completely fried.

“Okay,” nodded Jun. “Come with me I’ll make you some tea.”

“I want coffee,” pouted Jihoon.

“Don’t whine,” called Jun playfully, already halfway to the kitchen. “You know coffee is only going to frazzle your nerves more.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, sliding down off the window ledge. Stooping down to pick up his blanket and wrap it tightly around him, he trudged to the kitchen, dreading the conversation that was definitely going to ensue.

 

“You should sleep early tonight Jihoon,” started Jun as he placed the mug of steaming tea in front of Jihoon and sat beside him. “You look beat.”

“I’ll try,” replied Jihoon curtly, focusing intently on the mug in front of him.

Jun cocked an eyebrow questioningly at Jihoon. He tried to ignore it, but in the end, Jihoon simply groaned, leaning back against his seat exhaustedly.

“Can we please not have this conversation right now?” pleaded Jihoon, hands pressing hard against his eyelids.

“Nope, we’re having it. What do you mean ‘I’ll try’?”

“I mean I don’t even know what a peaceful night’s sleep is like anymore.”

“How long have you been having these nightmares?”

“Jun it’s not like I’ve ever gotten enough sleep anyway,” insisted Jihoon, avoiding the question.

“Yes, but this is different.”

“How?”

“Because then at least when you wanted to sleep, you did. Now you _can’t_ sleep. We’re worried.”

 

Jihoon didn’t respond. He stared at a spot on the table, hands clenching hard around the mug despite the sting from the heat.

“Answer the question Jihoonie. Please.”

“I don’t know,” responded Jihoon, voice quiet and curt. “Maybe… since those two guys came. Remember?”

Jun hummed in acknowledgment. “You really haven’t slept a full night since then?”

Jihoon shook his head, still refusing to make eye contact.

“Jesus Jihoon…” sighed Jun.

 

“There’s always someone in the dreams,” started Jihoon after a beat of tense silence. “I think it’s always the same person.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I never see his face.”

“You know it’s a ‘he’ though?”

Jihoon shrugged. “It’s an instinct. Whenever he disappears in the dream that’s when things get bad.”

“You’re sure you don’t know him?”

“I don’t think so. I feel like I should, but I can’t think of anyone.”

 

Jun hummed again, deep in thought. He was clearly concerned but just as helpless as Jihoon.

“We’ll figure it out soon enough,” sighed Jun, smiling softly. “And drink up before I steal the mug.”

 

Jihoon chuckled for the first time in days, basking in the warmth that filled his chest as he did so. All thoughts of the nightmares were pushed to the back of his mind, if only for a few hours. And as sunlight flooded the small house, the two were still smiling and laughing together, barely stopping each other (read: Jun) from waking the others.

 

////

 

Jihoon underestimated the cold. It was late evening, and he was walking home after buying some small snacks for the dorm, but the air was so cold it was wicking his heat away faster than his body could replace it. Cold licked at his face and crept under his inadequate hoodie, spreading across his skin like liquid nitrogen, numbing his face and hands. The wind cut through his skin and sliced at his bones like daggers. With pale lips and gently chattering teeth, all he could do was wrap his thin hoodie around him tighter and pray he’d reach home soon.

So focused on getting out of the frigid air and into a warm blanket, Jihoon didn’t see the person walking towards him until it was too late. Jihoon clumsily side-stepped to avoid walking into the man, but their shoulders still collided painfully. Stumbling and gripping his arm, Jihoon spun to offer a quick apology, only to find the man had already started walking away. He briefly considered calling out the apology anyway, but he decided to simply shrug and continue on his way.

 

He had barely taken a couple of steps before he stopped dead in his tracks.

_‘I love you.’_

It was too quick and muffled from behind a thick scarf, but Jihoon could have sworn that was what the man whispered when they collided. He thought it was a curse or exclamation at first, but after his brain overcame the surprise and processed the syllables, the words fell into place.

 

Sensations overwhelmed Jihoon suddenly and strongly. He felt hands ghosting in his hair, soft and gentle. He felt the faintest sting on the back of his head, pain in his collarbone, the discomfort slight yet impossible to ignore. Then came warmth despite the chilly weather. It flooded every fiber of his being, making his heart flutter and fingers tingle. Jihoon felt light, like his nightmares, fears, and worries all vanished into thin air.

Then came the pain, anxiety, and desperation. It was so pure and concentrated that Jihoon almost curled into a ball there and then. He clenched his hand into a fist so tightly his nails bit into his skin. The sting reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming, that he wasn’t trapped in another awful nightmare. But what other explanation could there be for his strange, inexplicable, yet incredibly vivid feelings?

 

Jihoon was clueless. He hadn’t even noticed it started to rain until he was completely soaked, the water so cold it stung. His clothes stuck to him, the water clamping the icy fibers to his already frozen skin. And yet, he didn’t move immediately. Jihoon stayed on the pavement watching the stranger round the corner, feeling an inexplicable urge to run to him. He stayed there until a painful tremor shook his body. Only then did he continue on his way home.

 

 Wonwoo met him in the dorm as he shut the door behind him. He fussed over Jihoon’s frigid state, forcing him to change into dry, warm clothes and piling blanket after blanket around his trembling, small frame. Throughout it all, Jihoon was out of it, still shaken and confused after his strange encounter.

“You okay? You’re being weird,” asked Wonwoo.

“I’m fine,” said Jihoon. But honestly, he had no idea whether he was being truthful or not.

 

////

 

A couple of weeks later, Jihoon and Seungkwan were all but kicked out of the dorm by Soonyoung.

“Neither of you have left this house for too long. Go buy groceries or something. Just get some sun.”

And so, Jihoon and Seungkwan found themselves in a small grocery store a five minutes’ walk from their dorm. Seungkwan was far more enthusiastic than Jihoon about the venture, so the elder let him take the lead as he watched fondly over him.

 

“Hyung, can I buy snacks?” asked Seungkwan, eyes twinkling with hope.

“Sure,” shrugged Jihoon. “But you know Jun and Channie are gonna steal all of them, right?”

“Not if I hide them they won’t.”

 

Jihoon’s chuckle was cut short as he saw a familiar figure a few feet away. His heart stuttered, his breath following suit. It was the same man he bumped into all those weeks ago. The same man who evoked strange, inexplicable feelings in him. There was no mistaking it. Despite only catching a glimpse of his face, Jihoon knew it was him. The soft round eyes, the delicate pink lips, the strong jawline, straight nose, broad shoulders, high cheekbones; there was no mistaking him for anyone else. Only today, he seemed more tired, his skin paler and faint purple bruises circling his eyes.

“Seungkwan I’ll be right back,” said Jihoon, giving into impulse.

 

Jihoon only really realized what he was doing when he was less than a foot away from the stranger. He felt like he was in the wrong place, like he was treading on forbidden grounds, like he was breaking some rule. His mouth went dry and his heart was beating far more forcefully than it usually did. His breathing went shallow as he felt his pulse pounding against his temples. For a few brief moments, he stood completely still, mind and body paralyzed.

Snapping out of his brief daze, Jihoon gave a small cough, not trusting his words yet. The stranger turned towards him, eyes clear and kind, laced with faint fatigue and melancholy. They were eyes that exuded so much comfort that Jihoon barely stopped himself from staring into them and letting the warmth wash over him.

 

“Um,” started Jihoon, staring at the ground, hating how small and unsure he sounded, “I saw you a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t paying attention and I bumped into you pretty hard. I guess I want to apologize because I didn’t get the chance then and…”

Jihoon trailed off and looked back up at the stranger’s face, as though that would fill in the words he couldn’t quite find. His breath hitched as he saw the look on the man’s face. His eyes sparkled with fondness, a small, endearing smile lighting up his entire face.

Needless to say, it made Jihoon very flustered.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “This was stupid. I’ll be on my way now.”

“No!” called the stranger. His voice was sweet and mellifluous, tinged with worry as his eyes glossed over with fear for the shortest of moments. It was only momentary though; he was able to recompose himself in a split-second “I mean – it’s okay you don’t have to apologize. And thank you, for seeing me after so long.”

 

As the stranger’s voice dropped to a whisper, Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?” he asked, sounding confused and nervous.

The stranger’s eyes widened in shock, as though he said something he shouldn’t have. He ran a hand through his hair as he breathed a nervous laugh.

“Sorry,” he laughed, “Ignore that.”

Jihoon couldn’t help but give a little laugh as well. There was something so comforting and _easy_ about the man in front of him, like he talking to someone he had known for years.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeonghan,” he replied. His voice got tighter, smile more forced, eyes more dejected.

“I’m Jihoon.”

 

Jeonghan’s heart fluttered, but it was painful. He kept searching Jihoon’s face for any sign that he remembered him, kept glancing at Seungkwan for a hint of recognition, but there was none. That wasn’t a surprise, Jeonghan knew very well what he got himself into, but none of that took the bone-crushing pain away. He decided that he needed to leave _now_ before he ruined things for him and his family.

“I hope I can see you again soon Jihoonie,” whispered Jeonghan with a tight smile. Fully aware of the risk he was taking, he extended his arm to squeeze Jihoon’s shoulder, stopping himself from pulling the younger into his chest.

 

And just like that, he left.

As Jeonghan’s hand touched his arm, Jihoon felt that same warmth that he felt under the winter rain spread through his whole body. He felt light again, his fingertips tingling and heart beating happily. He shouldn’t be feeling this way about someone he just met and barely talked to.

 

So why did he?

 

////

 

The tears started streaking Jeonghan’s cheeks the second he slammed his small apartment door behind him. It started with one lone tear, and then, the floodgates opened. The tears burst out from his eyes like water bursting from a dam. His chin trembled as though he were a small child. He breathed heavier than he ever had before, gasping for air that just _wasn’t_ there. His throat burned as he gave out a silent scream.

He felt like he was losing his mind, like it was unraveling right before him. He slid to the ground, back flush against the front door, hands shaking as they clawed at the floor. His eyes saw nothing; they lost all sight of anything physically there.

Jeonghan sat there for half an hour, crying as if his brain was being shredded from the inside, as though the ferocity of his sobs might bring his family back, would bring Jihoon back into his arms; as though by the sheer force of his pain the choice he made would be undone.

 

They were his family, his only family, all he had. He loved them with all his heart. And he lost them.

 

It had never really hit him how much he was hurting until he saw Jihoon at the grocery store. Seeing him like that, oblivious to everything they once had, it tore him apart. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to scoop Jihoon into his chest and explain everything; but he knew what would happen if he did, and that was not an option.

 

Once he had no more tears to shed and was left with shaking hands and trembling breaths, Jeonghan made up his mind. He decided to confront Changseok directly. He had been tirelessly working for _months_ , giving him everything he wanted and more. There was absolutely nothing more he could give him, nothing more in his power he could do. At this point, all Changseok was doing was torturing him, getting revenge in the sickest way.

Enough was enough, decided Jeonghan. He was going to get his family back and wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

After all, when he promised them something, he’d do anything to stay true to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unless my brain decides to torture me agAIN, things should start looking up from here (i hope)


	13. Chasing Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm tired and barely proofread this please forgive any mistakes

‘Changseok is a bastard,’ thought Jeonghan, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time.

Jeonghan had been sat in one uncomfortable chair for over an hour, for the bastard had made the choice to make him wait. His neck muscles were tight and taunt, elbow feeling as though it melded into the arm of the chair. He honestly doubted his legs would function when he got up. If he even _could_ get up.

Jeonghan was usually a patient person. Typically, he would wait silently and calmly; exuding a serenity like gentle breezes kissing salty stones on a quiet beach. Today was different. Today held the kind of waiting that felt like a knife-wielding robot was set loose in his guts while his head was being repeatedly beaten with a strong, solid plank of wood. He stared at the door so hard his mind almost conjured the image of it opening simply to appease him.

 

The office was grey, a floor-to-ceiling window facing the main road. On a grey, acrylic desk sat a laptop, various folders, and a stack of papers under a paperweight in the shape of a grenade.

_‘Classy,’_ thought Jeonghan upon first laying eyes on the unmistakable oval shape.

The second he walked into the room, Jeonghan immediately regret surrendering his warm coat to the insisting secretary. The heating was on, but only on the lowest possible setting, maintaining an icy cold temperature that was _almost_ unbearable.

 

After almost an hour and a half, the door to the office swung open painfully slowly. Changseok walked in like a tyrannical king entering his palace. He eyed Jeonghan sadistically, clearly enjoying the sight of his pale lips and shaking hands.

“Jeonghan-ssi,” he greeted. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

Burying the malice and impatience, Jeonghan forced a small smile that directly contrasted the coldness in his eyes.

“This was urgent,” he replied. Jeonghan’s tone was quick and brisk. He wasn’t here for small-talk, he was here to achieve a single goal.

“Business problems?” Changseok walked to the desk, sitting comfortably in the large leather chair, seemingly unfazed by the biting cold. He leaned back arrogantly, staring down his nose at Jeonghan.

“No, everything’s been stable. As it has been for a _month_.”

“So, where’s the urgency?” asked Changseok, enjoying toying with Jeonghan. His eyes were narrowed into slits: a direct challenge.

“ _Nothing_ is developing Changseok-ssi,” answered Jeonghan. “And even if there were a stream of constant developments, there are currently more than enough trained, able people to deal with them.”

“What are you implying?”

“I have delivered everything you asked me to. You are currently one of the most powerful individuals in Seoul while being possibly _the_ most hidden individual. There is absolutely nothing more I can do and thus, my position is useless. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal.”

 

Changseok barked a short, bitter laugh, and Jeonghan had to resist the urge to gulp with anxiety.

“I have held up my end of the deal, Jeonghan-ssi.”

“But-”

“I have ensured your member’s safety. That was all you asked for.”

Jeonghan took a deep breath before responding, curling his hands into his lap. “But why do I have to stay here if there’s no need for me to? I’m doing _nothing_ but wasting every single day with only the most minimal amount of work keeping me from losing my mind. I’ve done all I can. It’s time for me to go home.”

“I don’t believe I ever promised that you’d be able to go back,” stated Changseok nonchalantly.

 

Rage filled Jeonghan’s belly as his ears grew hot. His knuckles were chalk white from clenching his fists too tightly; small crescent cuts on his palm from where his nails dug into the skin. His wound-up form exuded an animosity that was acidic – potent and burning.

“What did you say?” said Jeonghan so quietly it would be unheard were Changseok not on the other side of the desk. He was barely able to keep his voice level.

“The deal was for you to figure out a compromise in exchange for their safety. I never said you could go back,” stated Changseok. His voice was patronizing, as though speaking to a small child.

 

Every word stung like a bee sting, fueling the fire that was already crackling inside Jeonghan. When Changseok spat the final ounce of gasoline, Jeonghan exploded with anger, but in his own way. Jeonghan didn’t explode loudly, but the flash was deadly nonetheless.

“You have got to be joking,” he said, words coming out curt and clipped as he grit his teeth.

Changseok simply sneered, which then developed into a manic laugh, his eyes glinting with malice. Jeonghan only stiffened further as the cacophonous Machiavellian laughter electrified every nerve in his body.

“You think this is funny?” snapped Jeonghan.

Changseok’s cruel, dull eyes immediately grew dark with loathing as he glared.

“You are an extremely stupid boy, aren’t you? Do you really think I’d let you go when you know so much?”

Despite himself, Jeonghan barked out an irritated laugh. “Know what? Every resource I’ve gained access to, every individual I’ve talked to, I’ve known about them long before I made that deal.”

“Still, your knowledge has deepened, hasn’t it? This is a risk I am not willing to take, Jeonghan-ssi.”

“Risk? What risk?!” Jeonghan was shouting at this point, incredulous. “I’ve worked this out so that we have no reason to pursue you anymore. Why else would I have agreed to that fucking deal in the first place?!”

“I’m sorry Jeonghan-ssi. There’s nothing more I can do.”

 

Jeonghan marched to Changseok’s desk, pressing his palms to the grey plastic as he towered over Changseok, eyes burning. And yet, the bastard simply continued smirking. If anything, he appeared amused.

“This is _ridiculous_ Changseok-ssi, and you know it. As with everything you’ve turned this into a cruel game just to satisfy your sick, sadistic mind. I have no place here anymore. Let me go somewhere I do.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped to a deadly near-whisper. The yelling was done through his eyes.

Changseok leaned back in his seat, crossing one knee over the other. “What makes you think they’ll let you back in. They’ve forgotten you Jeonghan-ssi. To them, you’ve never existed.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. There’s a trick to this drug like there is with all the others. What do you expect me to do? Give up and say goodbye?”

“I expect you to accept reality Jeonghan-ssi.”

 

Jeonghan laughed and pushed away from the table. His laugh was more bitter than stale coffee grounds. Walking around himself, he pushed his hair back with both hands just to have something with his violently shaking hands. Turning back to Changseok, his eyes immediately narrowed into dark slits.

“This was all so much easier when you were lying to us and really thought we didn’t see through it,” spat Jeonghan.

Changseok’s gaze darkened, his previous air of nonchalance gone. “Jeonghan-ssi, I suggest you stop this here. You wouldn’t want to be reckless.”

“I’ve been docile for three months Changseok-ssi. I believe this all calls for a little recklessness.”

_“Jeonghan-ssi.”_

 

Walking back to the desk, Jeonghan leaned forward, towering over Changseok once again. His voice dropped to a whisper. In his eyes there burned a fire more intense than the strongest wildfire.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to hide by keeping me here Changseok, but I don’t want nor need to. I’m going to get my family back.”

 

Jeonghan spun on his heel and walked briskly out of the office, leaving behind a stunned Changseok. Whether the bastard was shocked into silence by the venom in Jeonghan’s quiet voice or the solar flares in his eyes, Jeonghan didn’t care. He all but flew down countless flights of stairs, not trusting his patience to endure an elevator ride. Bursting through the glass doors of the building, Jeonghan quickly considered his options:

 

Option one: hail one of the taxis right in front of the building and risk the driver being on of Changseok’s assets.

Option 2: Walk further into the city and hail a taxi there, risking running out of time or being tailed.

Option 3: Run _now_ , using the most hidden, physically taxing route, and pray he gets there in time.

 

_‘Here goes nothing,’_ thought Jeonghan.

 

////

 

The shrill sound of the doorbell snapped Minghao out of his late afternoon nap on the couch. He jumped as though the button was hardwired to his brain. At first, he considered leaving it for whoever else had heard it, but then came the knocking. Loud, frantic, non-stop. Whoever it was wanted to be heard pretty badly.

“The whole damn neighborhood better be burning down,” scowled Minghao, waving away Jisoo and Mingyu who had come to answer to doorbell’s call just a _little_ too late.

 

Opening the door, Minghao was greeted with the sight of a hunched over, dark brown-haired man. His back was heaving up and down with the force of the air he was pulling into his lungs. As the man straightened up, Minghao saw that his eyes were worried for a second, then flooding with relief as he saw his face.

“Minghao,” the man gasped breathlessly. “Thank God.”

“Do I know you?” asked Minghao, still a little bitter from being woken up so harshly.

The man looked momentarily as though he had been struck straight in the gut. He recovered quickly though, giving Minghao a tired smile.

“You used to.”

 

“Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan looked past Minghao’s shoulder to see Jihoon peeking out from behind Mingyu. His eyes flashed with an odd concoction of worry, relief, and pure adoration.

“Oh,” started Minghao, “You’re the Jeonghan Jihoon’s told us about.”

“And who people somehow think you live here,” muttered Jisoo, eyes cautious.

“Can I please come in?” Jeonghan’s tone was almost begging. Minghao just shrugged and opened the door wider.

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Jeonghan walked straight to Jihoon, clearly wound up but still somehow exuding the same addicting warmth and kindness.

“Jihoonie,” he started, barely keeping himself from suddenly gripping Jihoon’s shoulders. “Is everyone home?”

Jihoon took a confused and cautious step back. “Yes, h-”

“Can you call everyone here for me, please? I need to talk to everyone.”

Jihoon frowned. “How do you-”

“Why should he trust you?” interjected Jisoo protectively.

“Because even though you don’t remember, I once promised to keep you all safe. Please let me fulfill that promise.”

 

Still distrusting, Jisoo let Jihoon run to gather the remaining members into the living room. Jeonghan’s heart clenched as he saw the faces who once knew him so well stare at him with confusion. His name didn’t spark anything in them. They really did forget him.

“Two guys came in autumn asking about you,” said Seungcheol, breaking an awkward silence. “What were their names again?”

“Yoongi and Jimin,” answered Seokmin confidently. “They also mentioned someone called Hoseok.”

“Yes,” replied Jeonghan, “I know them. You do too.”

“Excuse me?” asked Seungcheol, confused frown deepening.

“I’ll explain everything, but can I ask a question first?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Go ahead.”

“What do any of you remember about September 15th?”

“Jeonghan that was three months ago,” commented Jisoo, watchfully but not unkindly.

 

“No, wait,” started Hansol, walking to the kitchen and returning with his laptop open as he tried to pull something up while not tripping. “He has a point. None of the files on my laptop date before mid-September.”

“What the hell?” mumbled Chan and Seungkwan in unison, reaffirming what Hansol was seeing. They checked their devices and found the same anomaly.

“What’s going on?” asked Wonwoo, confusion masked behind an air of logical calm.

 

Jeonghan explained everything. How they were first Ssang Yong Pa but bonded together to form Sebong. How Jeongseo was killed and his murderer was the one who took his position. How Jihoon was a slave to Changseok and yet bravely told them all the lies he had been spewing, and soon after managed to escape after years of abuse. How Changseok continued to kill and trick until they all had enough. How Jeonghan had been turned into a killing machine, hurting the people he loved most until Jihoon somehow managed to snap him out of it. And finally, how in return for their safety, Jeonghan had to live with his closest family being ripped from him.

“Please believe me. I can’t prove any of this to you because all old records have been wiped clean. I’m breaking a million rules by being here and am being selfish because I can’t live knowing you’re all still here but are so far from me.”

 

Jeonghan’s heart stopped as he looked beside him to Jihoon, only to find pure, concentrated fear in his eyes. He was leaning away from Jeonghan, so close to leaping off the couch and running out of the room.

Jihoon shook his head. “No. No, that doesn’t make _any_ sense. You’re crazy.”

“Jihoonie,” pleaded Jeonghan. “Please.”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of us but I’m not buying it!”

 

Jeonghan’s heart clenched. He knew that for Jihoon, the truth would be far harder to swallow than for anyone else. But he had to remain calm.

“Jihoonie, do they know?” asked Jeonghan seemingly out of nowhere.

“Know about what?” asked Jihoon, guarded.

“Your back…” Jeonghan said it so softly, unconsciously holding Jihoon’s fingertips.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” growled Jihoon, yanking his hand away from Jeonghan.

“Jihoon what is he talking about?” asked Soonyoung concerned.

Ignoring Soonyoung’s question, Jihoon continued staring Jeonghan down, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m telling you Jihoon,” insisted Jeonghan. “I know you. _You_ know me. You all do.”

 

Jihoon pushed himself off the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the steps.

“Hyung,” whispered Chan to Seungcheol, “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Seungcheol looked at Chan tiredly before answering. “Me too.”

Jeonghan didn’t pay attention to any of that. Rather, he approached Jihoon as if he were approaching a timid cat. Jun and Mingyu stood almost instinctively as if to block his path. Holding on to Mingyu’s wrist, Seungcheol shook his head, stopping them.

 

“Hoonie…” started Jeonghan.

“Don’t call me that,” spat Jihoon.

“Please. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, I don’t! I-I don’t know that. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know what any of this is, I-I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

As Jihoon mumbled to himself, he became increasingly distressed. His pacing became furious, voice trembling and meek, face pale with pain. His nails were scraping at the skin of his arms, leaving red, angry scratches, and Jihoon probably didn’t even realize it.

 

Not knowing what else to do, running out of both time and options, Jeonghan gently grabbed Jihoon’s shoulders, stopping him dead in his tracks. He hadn’t been expecting Jihoon to hiss in pain, tears flowing from his confused eyes and down his cheeks, almost despite himself.

“Stop!” he almost screamed, voice raw, leaving everyone confused and worried. “Just stop this! It hurts!”

Despite the ache in his chest, Jeonghan kept his everything from shaking and lifted a hand to wipe Jihoon’s tears with his thumb. With the calmest, sweetest voice, he said something that made Jihoon freeze, eyes wide.

 

“Baby, how bad? One to ten.”

 

Jihoon held the hand cupping his cheek, his fingers trembling violently. Holding his trembling breaths, Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with hope.

“Hannie?” breathed Jihoon.

 

Jeonghan didn’t have time to smile or cry before a fist of orange flame punched its way through the house, ripping everything in its way apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on this for over 6hrs i am EXHAUSTED


	14. We'll Finally Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) once again this turned out longer than i honestly expected  
> 2) the happiness jeonghoon, seventeen, and all of you deserve  
> 3) i'm proofreading this rushed so plEASE excuse any dumb mistakes

When Jihoon finally awoke, he didn’t immediately open his eyes. They were heavy his eyelids almost glued together. His legs were numb, and everything else ached. It all left him feeling lethargic and heavy.

For the first few moments, everything was deadly silent. Jihoon’s exhausted brain’s only explanation for this was that he was dead, or perhaps in a comatose state. But then came the beeping of machines he’d learned to associate with his heartbeat, his existence. Curiosity slowly pried open his swollen eyes for them to focus on the dismal view of a cream-colored hospital room, the door a neutral blue, the color faded so much the hue was insipid. The room had an undertone of bleach, the scent itching Jihoon’s nose.

Jihoon tried to turn, wanting to look at the intravenous drip and monitors beside his bed, but instead, he groaned as a wave of nausea-inducing pain washed over him. His eyes squeezed shut only to snap back open as he felt a hand on the side of his neck.

 

As his vision refocused, memories flooded back. Memories of every time Changseok had landed him in the hospital. Every time, Jihoon prayed he’d finally gotten his escape, his freedom. But every time, he woke up to the chilling sight of Changseok smiling cruelly at him, his soft words and comforting touches betrayed by the hate and malevolence in his eyes. Jihoon stiffened as his breath caught in his throat. All he could think of was how he didn’t want to go back, how he _couldn’t_ do so, how he couldn’t lose everything he’d gained and built.

He remained silent and still, but his mind was screaming in panic.

 

It all faded away when a soft, mellifluous voice whispered into his hair.

“It’s me Jihoonie. You’re okay.”

 

Jihoon had never been more relieved to see Jeonghan. The exhale that had been caught in his throat finally made its way out his nose and mouth in a giant sigh. He grabbed the elder’s hands in both of his just to make sure he was real, not just a cruel dream or ghost. And even then, he didn’t let go, keeping Jeonghan’s hands in his lap.

“How’re you doing right now Hoonie?” asked Jeonghan, carding his hand gently through Jihoon’s messy hair.

“I feel like Thanos sucker punched me with the Infinity Gauntlet,” laughed Jihoon breathily.

Jeonghan chuckled in response, his eyes crinkling endearingly. He leaned in close, planting the smallest, gentlest kiss on Jihoon’s lightly bruised cheekbone.

“God I’m glad you’re okay,” breathed Jeonghan against Jihoon’s soft skin.

“How long have I been asleep?” asked Jihoon once Jeonghan pulled back.

“A week and a half.” Jeonghan’s voice started getting quieter, more choked. He closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing deep. “I-I was so scared Jihoonie.”

“I’m okay Hannie. And anyway, I thought you’d be used to seeing me close to death by now.”

Though it was an attempt to cheer him up, Jeonghan gave Jihoon a stern look in response to the attempt at a joke.

“Not funny,” he said, taking his hand out of Jihoon’s lap to lightly poke Jihoon’s unbruised cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Jihoon, squeezing the elder’s hands tighter.

“Jihoon, when I look at you, I… I see my whole world and to think I could’ve lost you it… it scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m right here Hannie,” cooed Jihoon, placing a kiss on Jeonghan’s knuckles before asking a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“How are the others?”

“They’re okay,” replied Jeonghan, smiling at Jihoon’s sigh of relief. “Seokmin’ll need some light physiotherapy, his hip got the worst of it, and Hansol will be on crutches for a while; but everyone’s fine. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up even though Cheol’s been trying to get them to go rest, and Jisoo’s been trying to get Cheol to go rest. After all, you had it worst Jihoonie. Do you want me to go get them?”

“Can you give me a minute?”

“Of course, baby.”

Jihoon loved his family with all his heart, and did really want to see them, but he had questions he wanted answers to first.

 

“What the hell happened?”

“Changseok was reckless. I guess he just panicked and he blew our place up.”

“Shit…”

“Thank God for Channie. He was the only one who wasn’t knocked out by the blast. Can you believe it? He practically crawled to the first person he could find and told them to call an ambulance. He made sure none of us bled out too. Without him, we’d probably all be dead.”

“Thank God,” breathed Jihoon, closing his eyes as the intense warmth of pride and gratitude washed over him.

 

“I still remember everything,” he continued after opening his eyes. “Before _and_ after the deal you made.”

“Good. That makes one of twelve.”

Jihoon’s jaw dropped, and then, he frowned. “The others still don’t remember?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Not a thing. It doesn’t help that I can’t restore any of the old documents, and all our physicals are nothing but a pile of ash.”

“How are they taking everything? Do they believe you?”

“They believe me. They’re confused, a little worried, but they believe me. Honestly, they took everything better than I thought they would. It’s not like they can do anything with the truth anyway.”

“How come I remember?”

“I don’t know. And you know what? I really don’t care. I don’t care about why or how anymore. I don’t need those answers anymore. I’m just happy I don’t have to miss you anymore.”

 

Jihoon smiled brightly, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss. Sighing contentedly into the kiss, Jihoon put his palm on Jeonghan’s chest, feeling his heartbeat vibrate through his fingers to every inch of his body.

“Wait,” started Jihoon, voice hoarse. He broke the kiss but stayed so close to Jeonghan he was practically murmuring into his mouth. “What about Changseok? He fucked up, didn’t he?”

“I was the first one discharged,” replied Jeonghan, leaning back slightly. “When I was, I worked with the police.”

“I thought the police were controlled by Ssang Yong Pa.”

“The police in _this_ neighborhood are. This became a matter of national security. People out of Ssang Yong Pa and Changseok’s circle of control were inevitably involved. I just gave them names and locations and they took care of the rest.”

“Didn’t they ask you how you know so much?”

“No. You remember Namjoon?”

“Yeah, you guys mentioned him a couple of times.”

“He made it all work out. I don’t know the details as to how, but like I said, I don’t really want to know.”

“So Changseok…”

“You don’t have to worry about him or anyone he worked with anymore. If he hasn’t been deported he’s probably going to spend the rest of his life in a shitty jail cell.”

“H-He’s gone?”

“He’s gone baby. Forever. I promise.”

 

Jihoon was incredulous, tears of relief falling faster than he could stop them. Years of abuse, of paranoia, of insufferable pain, scorching tears, and aimless hopes – he never had to worry about them ever again. Before he knew it, he was sobbing into Jeonghan’s shoulder, the elder whispering soothing words against his ear and peppering kisses along the side of his head.

Throughout everything he’d been through, Jihoon believed that caring was what hurt most of all. The love he got from his friends was like music to his soul; but to see their tears and pain burned like nothing he had ever felt before. But now, for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t have to worry about that. He didn’t have to be crippled by the fear of losing the only people who loved him back almost as much as he loved them.

It was the end of their old world, but also a beautiful beginning.

 

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked after Jihoon’s sobs calmed, touching their foreheads together as he stroked the younger’s wet cheeks.

Jihoon nodded, giving a shaky, but genuine smile, one that turned his eyes into beautiful half-moons.

“I’m happy,” he whispered.

 

Jeonghan smiled and closed the distance between them. He kissed Jihoon’s eyelids, then down his tear-streaked cheeks, then finally placing his lips against Jihoon’s so delicately and lovingly. The kiss was salty, interrupted by Jihoon’s flustered giggles, but it was perfect, filled with joy and adoration.

They had barely broken away from each other before they heard someone start to open the door.

 

“Hyung,” started a voice that could only belong to Seokmin, “Do you want to get some food? Seungcheol-hyung says-”

Seokmin froze when he saw that Jihoon was very much awake, a small smile painting his lips. A huge, infectious smile broke across his face as he ran to wrap his arms around Jihoon in relief. It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to fill the small room, Soonyoung almost crushing Jihoon in a tight hug. But Jihoon just laughed and smiled. He had all the people he loved right there with him, and for the first time, he wasn’t weighed down with the fear of losing them.

 

////

 

Hours later, they were still gathered around Jihoon’s bed, talking about everything and anything from the most mundane topics to the most outlandish. The time passed by quickly; what was actually close to five hours feeling like less than five minutes.

 

“This is weird,” Hansol had commented.

“Life is weird,” replied Seungkwan. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“I don’t know, _this_. It’s only been, like, a week since our whole world turned upside down. Several times. So, _this_ feels weird.”

“Are you complaining?” teased Chan.

“Hell no!” exclaimed Hansol, resulting in another chorus of fond laughter.

 

When the nurse peeked her head around the door to tell the group they could only stay for another half hour, the only unaddressed issue was brought up.

“So our house is gone,” said Seokmin, oddly matter-of-factly.

“Yup,” started Minghao. “Jun and I went by the other day. It’s gone.”

“Do we have anywhere else to stay?” asked Seokmin, turning along with everyone else to Jeonghan, who had been working _almost_ too much since he’d been discharged just to take care of everything.

“Nope,” sighed Jeonghan.

“What kind of gang were we that we didn’t have a backup safe house or something?” snorted Mingyu.

“It was hard enough to get our old place, and to renovate it. And anyway, real estate is _expensive_ ,” laughed Jeonghan, the rest quickly chuckling in amusement.

“We can start hunting tomorrow,” said Jisoo once the group had quieted down. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

A short silence ensued, the comfortable kind. The kind that only exists between close family. Pure contentedness filled the air, unpolluted by worry or anxiety or fear.

“I know I don’t remember anything,” started Seungcheol softly, “But if I knew… I mean, when I _did_ remember, if you’d have told me what you were planning Jeonghan… You know I would have done things _so_ differently, right? I would’ve stopped you.”

“You tried,” replied Jeonghan gently. “All of you did. I didn’t let you and I wouldn’t have let you even if you did something differently.”

“You still shouldn’t have had to endure what you did.”

“That doesn’t matter. It was worth it. For this.”

 

After gently but authoritatively knocking on the door, Jihoon’s doctor came into the room, telling the group that they _had_ to leave. In that second, all 13 _adult_ members turned into a bunch of five-year-olds, whining and groaning. The doctor was good-natured though, simply chuckling at the humorous sight.

“Don’t whine,” he chuckled, “He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

 

As the group shuffled out, Jeonghan leaned over Jihoon to kiss him right between his eyes.

“Get some rest sweetheart,” he whispered. “Tomorrow will be hard.”

Jihoon grabbed the side of Jeonghan’s shirt, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t leave, please,” he said, softly. “At least stay until I fall asleep.”

Jeonghan looked questioningly at the doctor, who relented easily with a sigh (much to the others’ dismay.)

 

Once the door closed once and for all, Jeonghan looked over Jihoon so fondly it made waves of warmth radiate throughout the younger’s whole body. Leaning down slowly, Jeonghan placed a kiss on Jihoon’s lips that was sweeter than passion fruits and softer than the fur of a kitten.

“Y’know,” started Jeonghan, still connected to Jihoon by the forehead, “The stars would be so proud to know their atoms created someone as wonderful as you.”

Jihoon barked out a laugh and hit Jeonghan playfully on the shoulder. “Never mind, leave. That was so cheesy it hurt.”

 

They were laughing. And that was the victory. Because no matter what was ahead, what trials, what tears, what treacherous roads; they were together, and they were laughing.

 

“How do you feel?” asked Jeonghan after making sure Jihoon’s small frame was adequately wrapped in the thin hospital blankets. He sat beside him on the bed, despite how hard it was, stroking the side of his face gently and lovingly.

“Scared,” came Jihoon’s soft reply.

Jeonghan frowned. “How come?”

“My life hasn’t ever been normal, not for one second. Even when my memory was wiped I kept having weird dreams that freaked me out. Now, we’re about to just sit back and enter normality for the first time. I don’t know what to expect or how to act and that scares me.”

“Listen up: I know we’ve been through and _nothing_ we encounter is ever gonna come close to that, but life’s still _always_ going to be full of hardships, of difficult situations. Even now, sooner or later, you’re gonna have some hard choice to make. That’s life Jihoonie.”

“Okay, okay, I know. Life sucks.”

“What, no! I mean, sometimes, yes, but that’s not my point. What I’m saying is… sometimes, you just gotta do whatever you can with whatever you’ve got. And if you just _try_ to do that, that’s enough. You’ll be okay Jihoon. You have me, you have _us_ , and we’ll all get through it together. We’ll be okay. After everything that happened, we’ll finally be okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise Hoonie,” whispered Jeonghan, the words unnecessary after the loving, sweet, warm kiss the two shared.

 

Jeonghan continued stroking Hoonie’s hair and cheeks, slowly lulling him to sleep. Suddenly, after a few minutes, Jihoon turned towards him, eyes sleepy but so bright, burning, and alive nonetheless.

“Jeonghan-”

“Shh,” interrupted Jeonghan, his thumb stroking along Jihoon’s lips. “Whatever you want to say to me, it can wait. Rest now, talk tomorrow.”

 

Jihoon surrendered, letting the gentle current of sleep take him. In his final few seconds of consciousness, he caught Jeonghan’s last few whispered words. They pulled him under and would echo through his brain happily as he fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

 

“Anyway, I know. And I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe it's done...
> 
> firstly, i really don't know how you guys will take this ending. i know a lot of you wanted revenge on changseok and for some time it was how i wanted to end it, but when i started considering how i characterized jeonghan in particular, i felt this ending was more appropriate, y'know? just for them to say 'screw you!' and move on with their lives.
> 
> secondly, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this fic. i expected next to nothing when i first started writing it because it was PURELY experimental but it ended up being a project i adored writing. despite the pain i inflicted on myself (both because of writer's block AND all the pain that was this fic) i truly enjoyed writing this.
> 
> i know in an earlier chapter i said i was gonna link you guys to a playlist i listened to while writing this so here ya go!! (i dunno how to link stuff neatly here so just TAKE IT and also let me know if it doesn't work): https://open.spotify.com/user/dguku1v8r4abwmt7wt0koy9ix/playlist/2JWXi4jOmzaQdwucD4H2Gi
> 
> once again, thank you for joining me on this wild, crazy, painful ride, and let's go on more (hopefully happier) adventures together!
> 
> love, suli


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